The Enemy
by Toydog16r
Summary: When a terrible review hits McFly - the band force it's author to come along - but what they're not expecting is her three other journo friends to join her. But can love find a way between musicians and The Enemy
1. Chapter 1: Reviews

_**McFly: Universal Black Hole**_

_**By  
Kellie Sixties**_

There is a lot to be said for the sixth album for most British bands. It either shows a tangible effort on their part, to attempt to look like the Beatles… sometimes they can be credited as doing a good job as a British band. Yet they also show a determination not to get out of the limelight with grace.

One such example of this is McFly. The first song is (of course) a badly ripped off version of The Beatles 'Tell Me why' which is instead entitled 'Why you cried.' Of course, along with it's ripped off title, it chants Tom Fletcher's most enchanting lyric: _**'I don't know what to sing about any more'**_ which truthfully I don't know why I am listening. Mostly due to my pay check but lets not go into that game… believe me after listening to this crap I need a pay rise.

This has been the reason why, outside of their (gigantic) army of teeny-bopper followers and foot-soldiers, McFly have always been considered a bit of a joke.

The pool-party lifestyle (Lindsay Lohan ring any bells?), the clothing lines and the Beatles complex never really squared with The Arctic Monkeys raw lyrics about factual stuff which is happening in Sheffield, Yorkshire… prostitutes, and not being able to get into clubs. The latter always bothering me.

_**Universal Black Hole**_ is an attempt to regain the maturity they had during the '_Wonderland_' Sessions and they lost after _Motion In The Ocean_. Take 'American Girl' a gigantic soul jam powered by acrobatic guitars, with Danny channelling Miles Davis as much as Billie Joe Armstrong. This effort is lost due to an overzealous rock guitar effort in the middle-eight… Led Zeppelin you aient.

The Song '**Un**derground' Is an attempt to make a transition to sex Gods in the making with innuendo such as '_I would love to get you Underground tonight_.' There's only maybe one hint of trouble with this… Dougie is terrible at being sexy, his voice (treated and auto-tuned to within an inch of its life throughout) sounds simply too gravelly to be sexy…

'_Glasgow in The Winter'_ is an all acoustic track, which features a thoughtful Tom Fletcher singing about the touring schedule, and with only an Acoustic guitar- he brings the people of Glasgow to life….

Yet this is the only song I can really claim to have enjoyed enough to be able to stomach placing on My I-Pod while the rest goes off the chart and into my recycling bin. Despite the harmony attempts and the orchestral help… McFly in this album sound nothing more than a glorified 'The Seekers'… which for a boy… oops sorry I mean 'rock' band is quite disturbing. Images spill out much too fast as the music flips and grinds direction, genre and mood.

The cold brutality is that McFly are attempting to distance themselves from that hoppy poppy stuff which they have endorsed for years. They're best album by far was their second album, which I ashamedly admit, I really enjoy. The band itself I find quite intelligent… although much can be said for their lyrics

A good attempt for an album by McFly indeed… and boys if I may make one suggestion… make sure the bleached-blonde-haired, brown eye-browed git colours his eyebrows in next time…


	2. Two: Sitting at the railway station

_**One**_

_**I'm sitting in the railway station.  
Got a ticket for my destination**_.  
© Homeward Bound by Simon & Garfunkel

"Back to bloody Wales," Angharad Locke looked out across the docking bay with a small smile. 'Feels great, doesn't it?'

The last comment was laced with sarcasm, although everyone chose to ignore it. The cold wind whistled through her hair as she sat on the suitcase outside Swansea Train Station. Her and her friends had arrived from London less than an hour ago, and a mixture of fear and cold was beginning to take its grip on them.

She sighed and flicked one of her bitten nails towards the derelict shop opposite. Angharad sighed heavily as she allowed the wind to whistle through her hair.

"This bloody country," Angharad muttered. 'Always bloody cold.'

She sighed and caught a look of herself in a nearby puddle. She smiled. Angharad was the second eldest of the group, and one of the most striking, a blonde. Her eyes, a deep cobalt blue, were alight with intelligence and a slight hint of mischief, although when she chose to she could make a flower wither under her murderous gaze. Angy, as she was more commonly known to friends, stood at five foot 8, and her height gave her more authority than she already radiated. She was the only person who could silence her friend Gwen's gabble with a look.

Talking of Gwen, she looked at her friend. The young woman was looking sleepy and deranged. She'd never been on tour with a band before... although Angy doubted if this constituted as a proper trip – seeing as they had been busily interviewing and photographing the Underground band 'The Scissors' whilst Gwen lazed in the digs.

Gwen was the artist of the group. Her style and appearance was unique, matching her mad personality. Her long hair had been dyed 3 different colours and she was the only one of the four who didn't have a fringe. Her eyes were a gentle hazel, often filled with happiness and the spark of creativity. She was often teased by her friends, although not maliciously due to her past with bullying, but it made her stronger against those who wished to hurt her. She was a flame that often burned bright, but when dulled, was well protected by her friends.

"Ah look at all the lonely people, where do they all come from…" Gwen shook her head as the voice interrupted her thoughts.

Bronwen was sitting on her suitcase, with a notebook in front of her and twiddling her pencil thoughtfully on her lap. She was obviously in the process of considering something. Perhaps a new song or poem... or a little ditty to piss people off. Bronwen had short, dark hair that contrasted prettily with her pale skin. Her eyes were large, brown and soft, although occasionally they would burst with fire if someone angered her. She was short, around 4'11, and this was often a source of teasing among her friends, especially Angharad. But despite this, she carried herself with a quiet dignity that belied her often manic nature and that made people like her instantly

"New song, Bron?" She asked politely.

Dark brown eyes connected with hazel. 'No, The Beatles actually, Eleanor Rigby. Very bloody suitable in this place, may I add." Her accent revealed her as a valleys girl. 'I am at this moment meditating.'

"Well do it quieter," Angharad snapped, sitting down on the baggage cart. 'And consider how we get out of this bloody mess…. Cause by god, aren't we in it…'

Gwen sighed and reproachfully nodded at Bron, who she knew was spoiling for a bickering match. Bronwen gave a terse smile, before returning to writing.

The 'Bloody Mess' as Angharad fondly termed it, was the Paris Trip. The Four (They were at this moment Minus Charlotte Evans who had returned home to face the bullet) had gone to Paris on an impromptu trip, with the Underground Magazine 'Unseen'.

The four friends worked for the magazine although under different names and different parts of it. Gwen as the Agony Aunt, Bronwen the roving music reviewer, Angy one of the photographers and Charlotte the guru of fashion.

None of their parents or other friends knew of their secret identities… and none of the girls intended to tell them. Except the Paris trip may have hashed that all up, since the girls had abandoned college for three weeks and were under the threat of expulsion.

"Why don't we just go home like Charl?" Gwen asked bravely, immediately receiving dirty looks off of the tallest and shortest members of the group. 'I mean it can't be that bad…'

"It won't be that good either you noob!" Snapped Angharad, who stood now and paced frantically. 'Our mothers will murder us and stamp on us in many different ways… and to be truthful I think Charl's an idiot.'

Bronwen chortled at that last comment. 'Yeah… and we're cowards. Mam sort of guessed I'm underground but she won't be happy.' She kicked at the suitcase. 'We're dead.'

"Yeah at least your mum will understand," Gwen smiled at her. 'My mum and dad will probably barbecue me and hang my hide on the wall as a decorative ornament.'

"I doubt there's a wall big enough," Angy cracked a smile for the first time that day. The blue-eyed girl had been pondering the situation from the moment they'd stepped on the train home from Paddington. She looked at the two girls with mild smile. 'What we need is somewhere to stay and sort out our lie… I mean… story.'

Gwen shrugged. 'My folks are in Italy, but my Aunty Diane is down, and she'll kill me just as good as mum would.'

"My Parents are in Ireland," Agreed Angy, 'But my Uncle Chris is house-sitting…'

"Mum is home, I think." Bronwen replied simply. She settled back on her seat, before nearly toppling off. 'But I know a place, it's large and deserted.'

"Sounds great," Gwen smirked. 'But how do we fit inside your head.'

"It's Jane's." Bronwen grinned wickedly. 'All we need now is a lift…'

A loud wolf whistle off of a van driver diverted the girl's attention. The Van had just pulled up next to a lamppost and the driver was sticking his head out. Gwen squinted and started slightly at the face. It looked remarkably like Bronwen's just a masculine version. Bronwen laughed and ran over.

"Al," She gave the boy a swift hug around the shoulders. 'How are you my brother from another mother?'

"Swinging, just like the sixties," 'Al' looked at the two girls who were looking slightly bemused at this show of affection. 'I'm her cousin Alex…' He held out his hand. 'Pleasure,'

"Angharad and this is Gwen." Angharad said shaking it. 'Are you heading to Brecon?'

"Yeah," He looked at his cousin, before saying. 'By the way you're dead. Dad says so.'

"Chris has said that since I could walk," Bronwen laughed, climbing into the vans back. 'Now just fucking drive.'

**

"Thanks for the lift sailor,"

"Bugger off Bron!"

Gwen Davies pulled off her sunglasses as Bronwen patted the side of the van as a good luck wish.

"So this is your Aunty Jane's retreat?" She asked.

The house before them was that of an old welsh cottage with white brick and a red bricked roof. Two chimneys stuck out from the roof and honeysuckle crept around the doorframe. Outside the front stood a Mini cooper and around the door laid a jumble of clothes which were obviously old punk rock clothes. A couple of chickens clucked around the doorway.

"It's not much," Bronwen smiled. 'But it's a second home, for her and me…'

"It's lovely," Angharad laughed, thinking of the typical life of the friends and living in digs which they couldn't swing a cat in. 'It's just lovely.'

They made their way up the drive, Bronwen concocting as she walked.

"Jane's probably in London, I remember her saying she had an interview on the ninth, Justin's in Washington..." She grinned. 'The house is ours, give our parents the warning that we're home… then we move out see them, cry a bit and we're not in trouble,'

Bronwen paused by the door to withdraw her key, but as she did she was met by a sudden scream of indignation. She stopped mid-turn and mouthed at the reflection of herself 'Oh Shit.'

Jane Tyler was storming across from in front of the mini, her slim face taut with a grimace. She was a lanky woman with long brown hair and had a thin body. Her face was feral and high cheekbone and her eyes were kindly yet angry.

"Ah," Angy managed.

"Shit." Gwen choked.

"My sentiments exactly," Bronwen agreed.

Jane came to a dead halt in front of them. She placed her hands on her narrow hips and pursed her lips. Her dark eyes studied each girl in turn.

"Heya Jane," Bronwen said in what she, obviously believed, was a winning optimistic tone.

"Well?" Jane managed to spit out.

"Any chance of a cuppa, we're bloody gasping." Bronwen finished.


	3. Three: Shooting down stars

Two  
She's shooting stars  
With her friends  
She's shooting stars

© Shooting Stars: Billy Idol

"I can't believe it, no note!"

Despite Jane's obvious anger, she was cooking up a good greasy meal for the three girls, while they cooed over Sadie, Jane's only child. Gwen watched as Jane slammed another sausage into the pan; she was mystified by the older woman.

Jane was a pretty, with flowing dark hair down to her shoulders and eyes that sparkled with brutal intelligence. There were slight crow's feet around her eyes – although they just added to the air of worldly wisdom she held.

Bronwen and Angharad, old rogues and knowing that Jane was their safe haven, weren't really that bothered by the row and settled on playing with the baby. Gwen however was disconcerted by the raw anger and emotion in Jane's face.

Deciding against a guilt trip, she settled on studying the walls around the kitchen. They were littered with an assortment of photographs, some depicting dear relatives and friends, and others showing Jane living up to her name and reputation and surrounded by various rockstar's. However, in pride of place was a small, worn photo; Bron and her mother Jen, arms around each other and grinning and Jane with Sadie placed in her lap, smiling indulgently.

The sizzle of more food being put on the grill roused Gwen's attention.

"Bron," Gwen looked across at Bron who was smacking her lips and listening to the radio. She looked up at Gwen with egg yolk on her chin and a childish smile on her face. 'Why's Jane putting more on? She's already cooked for us.'

"Because Jane is bloody starving herself, it's not just you kids!" Jane snapped, as she placed a final sausage to her plate and plonked herself down. Gwen looked suitably abashed, although she noted that Bron didn't offer a laugh. 'Now then, how was Paris?'

"Gay," Angharad smiled, already sensing an ally in the forty-nine year old. Jane's eyebrows quirked, her expression one of curiosity and confusion. 'Like everyone was smiling…'

Jane chortled. 'It hasn't changed much then….It was like that when I started out…' she bit into her toast. 'Christ I'm old… I was eighteen when I first went there… thirty years ago.'

"You're a journalist for NME aren't you?" Angy asked as she sipped her orange juice. A curt nod was her answer. 'How long have you worked there.'

"I worked in Melody maker from June 1976 till March 1978," Jane sat back in her chair. 'Then in Sounds from July 1978 till May 1983, and then from October 1985 till now NME…" Jane smirked at the astounded looks on Gwen and Angharad's faces.

"It's quite a CV," Angharad said, leaning forward with interest whilst Gwen played with Sadie who was laughing delightedly in her high chair. Jane nodded curtly. 'Is there…'

"Don't get her started up!" Bronwen slammed her plate down and stood sharply, turning away. 'Look Jane I'm going to bed. I need a snooze.'

"Well what you need and what you get are very different things," Jane snapped, her eyes narrowing. 'I want to know why you were in Paris.'

"As I told you," Bronwen replied evenly. 'We were doing research on the French revolution and how it affected the British Political system…'

"Nice try," Jane sighed. 'For Christ's sake Bron, you worried your bloody mother…"

"I left her a nice note," Bronwen said grouchily.

"Don't worry. Wont be long." Jane snorted. 'Very nice note… and why are you looking so bloody guilty? And… '

Angharad heard the shrill of the door bell and sighed heavily. Nobody paid much attention to the racket, despite the fact that the person outside held the bell for longer and longer each time, adding to the cacophony of noise. Jane and Bron were too busying themselves duking it out with harsh words and fierce glares. Gwen was playing with Sadie, distracting her, for which Angharad was grateful.

Glancing at Jane and Bronwen, Angharad made her escape into the cool, quiet hall. Pulling open the door, she glanced at the young man hovering outside.

"Yes?"

"Underground Unseen for Jane Tyler," The boy's voice obviously hadn't broken yet, and came out a squeak. He blushed and his hand shot out from his pocket. 'Two pounds please.'

Angharad reached into her pocket and willingly gave over the two pounds needed. The boy handed her the magazine before sighing and making his way out of the compound. Angharad quietly shut the door before smiling gently as she prised open the magazine.

This magazine was the reason they were in trouble. She ran her finger down the front page photo. It was of The Latest a band whom Bronwen had laid waste to with an ease due to her great distaste for 'Manufactured Pop' bands. The photo was one of her best, Angharad admitted as she ran her fingers over the well-oiled faces.

Angharad was one of the main photographers in 'Unseen' and often accompanied Bronwen to destinations for interviews. She smiled; she went under the name Angela McDuff, while Bronwen's was (appropriately) Kellie Sixties. She carefully tucked the magazine into her back pocket before walking through.

"Jane is it ok if we go to bed? We're really tired," she asked, yawning for emphasis.

Jane looked at the three girls and scowled. It was obvious that she wouldn't be getting any more out of them; they were dead on their feet and their exhaustion was clear from the dark circles under their eyes.

"Go then, Bronwen you share with them both." Jane ordered. Bronwen looked at the two and smirked. 'I mean it Bron, if you so much as kick them out of the room you die...'

"I know! Come on then," she ordered. The two girls smiled and followed the brunette up the stairs and to a large room at the back of the house.

The door was plastered in photos. Gwen smiled in recognition of some. There was one of the four friends posing outside of their old school Llangatwg and one of the four on Prom Night. Several photos of Bronwen posing with her mother solo were there, as well as a shot of her family. Then of course there were the Beatle lyrics all over the door.

"Come on in," Bronwen smiled shoving open the door and kicking her boots off. 'Welcome to my domain.'

Gwen smiled; much to her surprise the room was quite tidy. The floor was wooden and had been painted with psychedelic colours. It had a single LP on the floor which Angharad picked up and smiled at.

"Rolling stones Bron, tut, tut." She said, walking over to the LP Player which was opposite the window and put it on. Instantly the resounding beat of 'Sympathy for the Devil' rang out. 'Beggars Banquet?'

"Yep, I need some rough now and then. It's not all Lennon." Bronwen threw herself on the four poster bed. 'Now then,' she nodded her head to get Gwen to shut the door. 'We are alone, with only the Stones for company.' She gave Angharad a significant look.

"New mags out." Angharad threw it on the bed. Gwen scooped it up. 'Nice bit of advice in there Gwenno…'

"Thanks," Gwen smiled, reading her own piece, under the nametag 'Aunty Musouka'. 'Charl reckons the bit about 'Finding yourself' is great.'

Bronwen chuckled, and took it off of her. She giggled at the article she had written before bursting into hearty laughter. Gwen took it off of her and frowned.

"Bron, you shouldn't call McFly 'Glorified seekers…'" Gwen put down the magazine. 'You'll get sued.'

"They don't know me." Bronwen replied curtly, as she pulled her Steiff bear 'Button' closer to her chest.

"Like you don't know them," Angharad replied shortly. 'Look lets get some shut eye.'

Bronwen smiled at this, although the last comment made her think quietly. She carefully allowed the two girls to top and tail while she made her bed on the floor.

"Bron, why don't you sleep at my feet?" Gwen asked kindly. Bronwen gave her a dirty look.

"With the smell on your feet no bloody thanks."

She curled up and silently fell asleep to the sound of the other two's breathing.

**

Tom Fletcher wasn't a happy man. After being described as a 'brown-eyed bleached hair idiot' in Unseen he had been furious. Storming into the Unseen offices, he threw himself into the editor's suite where Jo Briny was writing up his article.

The 21 year-old was a master journalist and he knew what was coming before the young man even opened his mouth.

"It's her right of view." He said shortly. 'She wrote the article and it's tough on you.'

"I want to meet her," Tom said, just as shortly. 'I want her here in… this grotty town in less than an hour otherwise I sue…'

He plonked himself on a seat, while his other band mates as well as Richard waited on the outside. Jo sighed and picked up the phone.

"You're for it." He warned Tom.


	4. Four: Yesterday's news

Three

Every day means the turn of a page

Yesterday's papers are such bad news

Same thing applies to me and you."

© Yesterday's papers: The Rolling Stones

All was silent in Brecon. It was past one o'clock in the morning.

The mobile phone let out a shrill note before Angharad rolled over to throw the little buzzing thing against the wall. Instead her sleepy aim made sure that it bounced off Gwen's hand and straight smack into Bronwen's head.

"Jesus Christ!" Bronwen rubbed at her head before sitting up. 'Why is it ringing?'

"Because someone is ringing you," Suggested Gwen, smiling dopily at her friend.

"You know what she's wittier than you when she's half asleep," Angharad chuckled, catching hold of her pillow and snuggling up to it – already falling back to sleep. 'G'night Bron.'

Bron shook her head, and answered with a yawn. 'Lo?' Suddenly her eyes snapped open. 'Jo? Yes… no… who…' Her voice raised at least an octave with indignation. 'What the fuck do they want?! No… yeah… I'll be right down. Yes… all of us…' somehow this awoke the two sleeping beauties. 'Yeah. Ta ra Jo.' She switched off her phone.

"What does Jo want?" Angharad got up, and quickly pulled on her jeans and boots. 'He never rings.'

"Someone's down the offices. They want a word."

**

In Cadoxton, it was raining.

Charlotte Evans was alone in her bedroom – well alone as far as human company went. She watched the idle rain fall down the windowpane's whilst stroking her cat (Angel's) head.

Downstairs she could hear her mother and father hammering about the kitchen, discussing their daughters secrecy and idiocy. After all it was rare that Charlotte actually got caught doing anything.

She sighed heavily. Since returning home that's all she had had was consistent rants about how much they'd worried about her – yet the result of these concerns and worries had been a six month grounding, let alone being driven to all destinations. She shivered as she ran her finger over a bite mark on her thigh given to her by The Scissors front man Byron Lee.

**Well at least it was worth it **

Charlotte knew she was attractive to men. Jo often referred to her as the 'Ultimate journo groupie'. She had short dark hair, which was cut into messy chunks, giving a very rock star chick look. Her skin was mildly tanned and a defiant girly pout remained on her lips while her eyes radiated 'Come fuck me'. Her nature could range from being a best friend to being a spoilt brat – not that either Bronwen or Angharad paid any attention to this. Musicians made you immune.

A sudden tapping at her window interrupted her memories and awoke her from her thoughts. Outside on the flat roof, beside her bedroom window stood Angharad – dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans – shivering as the rain slid down her face. Quickly Charlotte went to the window and slid it open.

"What're you doing out there?" she asked smiling dopily.

"What do you think?!" Angharad snapped, pulling her jacket tighter around her shivering form. "I like hanging around on your windowsill, freezing my arse off! Let me in!"

Charlotte steeped back hurriedly as Angharad swung through. The blonde shoved her wet hair out of her face before turning back to the window to close it. Heaving a sigh of relief and shuddering lightly as the heat of the room seeped into her chilled bones, she settled herself onto the floor. She gestured at the bed. "Might as well, make yourself comfortable. I have news and I don't feel like heading out into the pouring rain just yet."

"What's the news?" Charlotte quickly shut the door and locked it, hoping that her parents wouldn't venture upstairs and hear their conversation.

Angharad scowled irritably, and hunched her shoulders. "Bloody McFly! The article that Bron wrote caused quite a stir apparently. Tom Fletcher is demanding to see us pronto and Jo expects to see us at the office in a few."

"Why do we have to go? Bron is the one who wrote the article! Anyhow my parent's will kill me if I go out again," Charlotte's lips jutted out in a pout. 'I can't risk another grounding. I'm not going.'

"You are so going. If we have to bite the bullet, then so do you!"

"Look Bron can handle her-" She was cut off by Angharad's deadliest glare, the one that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"You're going and you're going to like it."

"Alright I'm coming I'm coming." She bit out angrily. 'I just don't know how to get past them…' She jerked her head downstairs, as she placed the pillows in bed and throwing the duvet over them – making a convincing body.

"Please that's easy." She gestured to the window. "We just go out the way I came in." The look of horror on Charlotte's face made her grin. "It won't be so bad. Now hurry up. We don't have all day and I'd like to get dried off sooner rather than later."

**

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with C and A,"

Bronwen sighed heavily, from the drivers seat and shrugged. The rain was pissing down outside and to be quite honest she was feeling very depressed. 'Angy and Charl?'

"Yeah," Gwen settled back into her seat and gazed out of the rain streaked window, watching as the dark figures of Angy and Charl hurried towards them. Her thoughts wandered, unable to focus on the very real prospect that she and the others could lose their jobs. It was an idea too horrible to consider.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the passenger car door opening and both Charlotte and Angharad looking in.

"Back seat then," Bronwen ordered to Charlotte as she automatically pulled her seatbelt on and started the engine.

"Why? I never get front!" Charlotte whined.

"Because of that tone!" Angharad shoved her into the car, and quickly assumed her position next to Bron. 'Gun it then Lennon!'

Bronwen cackled wickedly, before revving the engine and speeding off.

**

The drive was normally 10 minutes – although it lasted all of 5, with Bronwen's speeding. Angharad, who was used to Bronwen's speed demon antics chatted easily to her while they wound their away around the little factory village. Gwen and Charlotte merely prayed.

Their destination loomed and pulling to a stop in front of the building, Bronwen grimaced and tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. She listened as Gwen and Charlotte hopped out, their shouts of "It's bloody freezing!" echoing in her ears. Angharad was a solid presence beside her.

"What if we're kicked out," she whispered, her voice trembling. Angharad squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and, when Bronwen turned to face her, gave her a small smile.

"If they kick us off, then they are losing the four greatest people that have ever worked on that magazine. Now shift your arse."

Bronwen smiled shakily and joined Charl and Gwen outside.

They walked towards the office in silence, although Angharad saw how Bronwen lengthened her stride and how her eyes sparkled with anticipation and determination. She looked more like Jane in that moment than she ever had before and Angharad had to smile.

Bronwen shoved open the door to the offices and immediately held back a gasp as she encountered the four members of McFly and Jo. McFly stared at her with recognition. She merely glanced at them

Jo smiled and walked over, briefly kissing her cheek before administrating the same care and attention to the other girls.

"Ladies," He laughed, as each caught him in a hug. 'How was Paris?'

"Great," Bronwen blanked the stare from Tom Fletcher. 'You should have met Sir Paul, he was better than what I imagined.'

"Really?"

"Yeah. Did a proper interview, and discussed the morality of the 60's." Bronwen paused to take a breath. 'Mind you that would be for a later edition… not this time… especially when I promised The Allen Brothers front page.'

"Indeed."

"Excuse me, but we're here to discuss what one of you girlies called me?!" Tom snapped, already tense with the effort of keeping his temper. 'A bleach haired, brown eye browed git?'

Bronwen giggled. 'Oh yeah I'm good.'

The two shared a scathing look before the air rang with expletives. Angharad sighed and shook her head. She knew that something like this was going to happen. Bronwen could never keep her head when she felt she was in the right.

"For Gods Sake," Danny sighed.

"My feelings exactly," Angharad agreed. The curly-haired man turned to her with a smile.

"So then… what's your sign?"

"Do not enter," Angharad smiled brightly before turning away.

Harry looked at Charlotte before shyly saying: 'What's a lovely girl like you doing in a dump like this…'

Before she could answer, there was an eruption from Bronwen.

"FINE!"

"FINE" The two turned away from each other both red in the face, and stewing.

"If you pair of childish twits don't mind me asking what's 'Fine', I'll ask it…" Dougie paused. 'Christ sometimes I make very little sense.'

"Now he notices?!" Harry seemed genuinely shocked, but was ignored.

"She," Tom cocked his thumb at Bron. 'Is coming with us on tour… to show what we're really like…'

"Correction," Bronwen leant in at him. 'I'm going to prove what a dick you are.'

"Oh Yeah?"

"Yeah," Bronwen walked over to the small office she called her own. Shooting a smug smile at Tom when she announced. 'And you three are coming!'

"I love how she gives us a choice," Gwen mumbled.

"What are friends for?" laughed Dougie, giving Gwen a gentle smile. 'Look while she cools down do you girls feel like having a coffee while I feed my pet lizards?'

"Sure," Gwen's voice came out higher and squeakier than she anticipated and she winced at the surprised look from Dougie. 'I'm surprised I can go that high.'

Ignoring the two lovebirds, Charlotte sighed, spotting Bronwen throwing various papers and articles over her shoulder and in the process of muttering. 'I think Bron's looking for her diaries.'

"Diaries?" Tom enquired innocently. 'Secret?'

"No, she keeps a list of things which we take on tour with us…" she lifted an eyebrow as Bronwen looked up horrified. 'And she's bloody lost it…'

"I haven't lost it," Bronwen poked her head around the door. 'I've merely left it in Jane's… so while you lot are safe cause you can lie and say we're going on a trip with a school and all work has been arranged… I need to get a hold of my book so I can ring Mam…'

"Nice going genius." Angharad replied shortly.

"Nah Lea's the genius," Bronwen smirked; the reference to an earlier book she had started writing clearly amusing her.

"Oh just shut up, Get to Brecon and get the bloody book," Angharad snapped, towering over the smaller girl with a scowl. 'You can face Jane…'

"But she's scary!" Bronwen protested feebly. 'She'll kill me.'

"So what? We'll get another short-arse," Angharad said, roughly pushing Bronwen out of the offices. 'Now go on, what are you? A woman or a mouse?'

"Squeak, squeak," Came the icy retort before the door slammed shut in her face.


	5. Chapter 5: In the night

Four  
_Make my bed and light the light,  
I'll be arriving late tonight,  
Bye bye blackbird  
*SUNG BY RINGO STARR*_

Bronwen silently turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open to Jane's cottage. She slipped in and shut the door as quietly as possible. The loud gurgles and giggles alerted Bron to the fact that Sadie was wide awake and obviously happy

With a quick check for Jane, she slipped off her winkle-picker boots and beat a hasty retreat upstairs and into her bedroom. She slid to grab the suitcase from underneath the bed, and with ease she threw it onto the bed.

With a small smile, she flipped open the battered old suitcase. This held more than JUST memories for her. It held a lifetime of roving. This leather bound suitcase was Jane's original suitcase from the late 70's. From when she was the young gunslinger who could cut Mick Jagger to the bone and who once (infamously) knocked Sid Vicious out before screaming 'I believe I came to do an interview not to be touched by your grubby bloody hands.'

Oh yes, this little suitcase was bound to bring good luck.

She flicked through a small photograph album. A photo of the four posing outside of the Louvre was smiling at her. **The only bloody place we can get proper culture- and Charl gets us thrown out for trying to touch that bloody concept art crap**.

She sighed, before tenderly placing the photograph album to one side and quietly putting her hand underneath the trilby with the white feather sticking out of it. Instantly she felt the colour drain from her face. Her diary, the precious leather-bound diary was gone. Instantly she began to search, tossing her various kaftans and her brown waistcoat jacket over her shoulders.

Her breathing quickened as panic welled up inside her – precious interviews and photo's were in that diary. A mantra of 'Oh shit' thundered through her head.

"Looking for this?"

The voice came from the doorway, and Bronwen recognised it. Jane. She turned to be faced with Jane's cold stare. She held up the leather diary between ruby nails, her eyes never leaving the same dark ones her niece shared. "Its lovely reading. Most informative.'

"You cow," Bron leapt for Jane's hand although Jane whipped it away. 'You had no right.'

"No right?!" Jane gave her an angry and slightly incredulous look. 'For Gods sake Bron, you've been acting weird for months! Vanishing on weekends… coming back malnourished… you've been worrying your mum.'

Bron ignored the attempted guilt trip and folded her arms over her chest. 'What were you doing looking through my stuff?'

"Looking… it happens to be my bloody suitcase!" Jane snapped, running her fingers through her hair. 'I came in to check how you girls were sleeping because I was awake, and you weren't here… so I went looking for a clue,' she seemed close to tears. 'For fucks sake I was as sick as a dog worrying.'

"I get it," Bron settled on the bed, and looked at her aunt. 'You read it… does mum know yet?'

"How thick do you think we are?" Jane broke into the familiar wicked smile which Bron knew and loved. 'We worked it out months ago, just never brought it up… and to be truthful I was sick of waiting for your confession.'

Bron burst out laughing at that comment. Jane shook her head. 'Now do you mind telling me about this whoo-hah?'

"It's pretty late…."

"We've got until morning."

**

Angharad sighed heavily, biting her bottom lip in worry, the photograph she held crumpled around the corners where her grip had tightened. Bron was yet to be seen, and the thought that she might be in trouble had Angharad fretting. Bron had always described Jane as vicious when it came to getting what she wanted, and it was obvious that she wanted to know why Bron kept disappearing.

In an attempt at distracting herself, Angharad glanced at the photo that Jo had requested. It featured Josie Mustang, doing her infamous convulsing technique and it was one of Angharad's best shots. She was proud of how she had managed to capture the emotion that the piece had provoked in her. Photography had always been a way of calming herself down, a chance to relax and it worked now. Her tense muscles relaxed and her grip on the photo loosened.

The click of her office door opening had her turning, shooting a small smile at their editor as he strode over.

"Hey there," Jo placed his hand at the small of her back. 'What you got for me?'

"Josie Mustang. I've gone for a look of emptiness and stillness," she told him matter-of-factly. 'I think you'll find it's redolent of the Gerard Malanga shots of Warhol and the Velvet Underground. It's a little crumpled though.' She blushed. "I've had a lot on my mind."

Jo smiled gently. He knew what a tough time his girls were having at the moment and Angharad had always been a worrier. "Don't worry about it, Sunshine. Just print me off another one by tomorrow. It's no trouble."

Angharad's bright grin, the one that had earned her, her nickname, shone through. "Thanks." She hugged him briefly before stepping away. "I guess I better be getting back to work. There's always another story to be written right?"

Jo chuckled, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. "You stole that off Bron didn't you?" The flash of mischief on the blonde's face answered his question. "Alright then Sunshine, I'll leave you to your work."

*******

It was barely an hour later when another knock sounded on Angharad's door. She looked up irritably, snapping "Come in!" in greeting.

The door swung open and Danny Jones sauntered in, letting the door swing closed behind him. He was grinning and Angharad felt her hackles rise. "What do you want?" she barked.

He shrugged, his grin a little wider than before. "I was lonely. Doug's has gone off with that Gwen bird and Harry and Charlotte are christening the couch as we speak." He noticed the grimace on her face and laughed. "What? Having sex in the office offend your delicate sensibilities?"

Angharad shot him a glacial look before shaking her head curtly. "It doesn't offend me at all. It just means that I can never sit on that couch again." Her lips pursed in a faint pout as she murmured, "And it was really comfy too."

Danny laughed loudly and settled himself on the edge of Angharad's desk. "You're mad, you know that?" Ignoring the indignant look he received, Danny glanced at the work spread across the desk. His eye was caught by a black and white photo that lay partially hidden under a pile of papers and tugged it free.

"What's this for?" he asked, staring over the edge of the photograph at the blonde.

"It's for the centre fold… it's the major article, she's the front woman for Dachau Angels – German band, but Bron's favourite at the mo." She snatched the photo away from the guitarist and tucked it into her file. "And I don't appreciate you looking at my work without permission."

Before he could respond, the door was shoved open by the imposing legend of Jane Louise Mollohan (Nee Tyler.) The two fell silent – in a mixture of respect and awe on Danny's part and exasperation on Angharad's for Jane's penchant for the dramatics. She was dressed in a white shirt, brown waistcoat jacket and slightly flared trousers. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, illuminating the striking contours of her face.

"Hello ladies and genitals," She announced in her familiar tones. 'And we are gathered here on this early morning for what reason?'

"Jane Tyler, if I live and breathe," Richard laughed as he appeared in the doorway behind the striking woman, catching Jane in a tight hug. She laughed into his shoulder. 'How are you?'

"I'm fine, and before you ask so is Justin – he's out in Russia reporting on that oil crisis and Sadie's sleeping in bed,"

"You left her on own?!" Tom asked incredulously, from the outer office.

"Shut it you cross-eyed little git," Jane snapped.

"Never spoke like that to me in your interviews," Tom whimpered slightly to himself. Jane however heard him.

"You never said something stu… fuck that!" she pulled out her cigarettes and lit one. 'Anyhow I knocked my sister-in-law Lori up.'

"From Bron's descriptions any bugger can knock Lori up," Angharad joked, in reference to the fact that Jane's sister-in-law had 14 kids of her own. 'Where's…'

"I'm here," Bronwen was standing in the doorway, watching the turn of events curiously. 'Tom, Danny I'd like you to meet my aunty Jane Tyler…'

The girls held back laughter.

"Fucking hell."

**

"Why did you insist on them coming on tour with us?"

Harry threw his boots against the side of the tour bus with added discomfort at the very thought of having girls in such close contact with him. Groupies and Band Aids were great – Band aid's were sisterly despite the 'shagging their brains out' bit and Groupies just like to brag about who they slept with… but girls who were journo's and had no interest in sleeping with them… well apart from Charlotte… that was a different ball game.

"Because I wanted to prove that we weren't ignoramuses," Tom explained, sitting down. 'I mean I couldn't believe that girl…'

"It was a matter of pride on his part," Danny chuckled, sitting next to Richard who was flushed with temper. 'You alright mate.'

"No, I don't particularly like being abandoned by my band, and being embarrassed," Richard replied sharply. He looked at the group in turn. 'I happen to have known Jane Tyler for many bloody years, and I know her niece is her pride and joy.'

"So basically," Dougie allowed his head to fall back onto Tom's shoulder. 'Bronwen is the protégé?'

"Oh yes," Richard smirked. 'As hot as Jane was in the seventies. She once told a roomful of journalists 'you think I'm good, just wait until you see my niece,' that's how good she is." An immediate groan followed. 'Jane did the same thing to Atomic rooster… and one member was as hot-headed as you Tom…'

"What happened to them?" Tom asked somewhat nervously.

"Became good friends with them actually, but they broke up in 1986, Crane committed suicide and Hammond died of a drug overdose following it." Richard shook his head. 'Jane always blamed it on the fact she made a damning report on their last album…'

Tom sank back in his seat, remembering his first ever visitation to Jane's flat in London for and interview. He remembered a photo which had been taken down and Jane's strict instruction:

"Don't talk to me about it,"

Nobody ever mentioned it.

"Hey bucko," Dougie gave the blonde male a gentle shove in the shoulder. 'Did you hear a word of the itinerary for tomorrow?'

"No, sorry mate." Tom rubbed his tired eyes and smiled. 'Any chance of a catch-up?'

"Yeah, Margaret is going ahead of us to a gig in Liverpool, and we'll be staying the night in Liverpool – although we're doing an overnight trip on the Train… we're picking up the girls' in Neath."

"Tidy," Danny yawned. 'Don't tell me… an early night.'

"Indeed," Dougie grinned. 'It would be easier if we had a nice kip for once instead of thoroughly tiring ourselves out by partying all night…'

Danny gave out a loud laugh, earning a pillow flung in his general direction by a tired Harry who was lying curled up against his pillow. Dougie stumbled over to his bed and threw himself beneath the covers. Danny felt his eyes flickering shut, and he didn't fight against it. His latter image was that of Tom still sitting awake, working.

_The cold brutality is that McFly are attempting to distance themselves from that hoppy poppy stuff which they have endorsed for years. They're best album by far was their second album, which I ashamedly admit, I really enjoy. The band itself I find quite intelligent… although much can be said for their lyrics…_

"Ha!" Tom Fletcher closed the magazine in a flurry Bronwen, nee Kellie's, words ringing in his ears. He looked at the magazine with venom although he felt an odd pang of guilt. Maybe it was because he found it hard to distance himself from bad reviews… yet this one was different from others.

It was articulated and well-mannered, the words seemed to cut like a knife and in truth he felt slightly angered by them. He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He was meant to have rung his girlfriend Sarah but as of late he no longer cared for her… and he swore under his breath. It was too late to be thinking, with a practised ease he pulled off his shirt and climbed into his bed.

Tiredness took him, but not before blurred images of a girl in a brown suit haunted his memory.


	6. Six: New Destinations

_**Five**_

_Well I'm on my way, I don't know where I'm going,_

_I'm on my way, I'm taking my time but I don't know where_

_**© Simon & Garfunkel: Me and Julio down by the school yard.**_

"Oh bloody hell,"

Angharad Locke gave her suitcase a good old-fashioned kick as she struggled to pick up her photography gear and this action caused her suitcase to drop. 'Why did I agree to this?'

"You didn't." Charlotte Evans replied from where she was putting the last remnants of her bags into the back of Angy's little Mini Cooper. 'Bron's forcing us to go.'

"I notice you didn't protest much," Angy pointed out, correctly. 'You were much too busy gasping out his name in…'

"Ooh, shut it." Charlotte slammed the boot shut in absolute temper. 'He's an intelligent stimulating man.'

"I can see he's stimulating… and let me tell you… with the exception of my father, a drummer is a sure poster child for Birth Control." Angy teased, wiping the hair from her eyes.

In response to this particular jibe, Charlotte got into the car and slammed the door shut. Angharad shrugged her shoulders and clamoured in, before sighing.

This was going to be a long journey – even if it was only a ten minute one. Angharad gave the steering wheel a gentle tap as good luck.

_A tradition that's not to be broken,_ she thought to herself, as she drove off down towards Gwen's house.

Apart from Bron, she was the only member of the group who could drive. The Mini was her pride and joy and had been the first car she had ever bought. It was a regular little red piece, but it was the girls' main transport… occasionally with Bron driving, whom was an infamous speed demon.

"Angy?" The voice of Charlotte interrupted Angharad's image of Bronwen driving down a highway closely resembling Cruella DeVill. 'What did you tell your parents?'

"I told them that we were groupies, and we were going to shag Mcfly's heads off… and then take a leaf out of Heather Mills' book and divorce each one," Angharad had such an innocent expression on her face as she spoke that she doubted that it was any wonder that Charlotte looked so horrified and shocked. 'Of course I didn't. I told them that the college was sending us on a tour, we were reporting back our experiences and work was being sent to us.'

This was not even half-true. Only the work was being sent to them – and even that was on a monthly basis. Confessing to college had been easy – especially when they revealed their identities. Their Underground notoriety had indeed saved their necks.

"I hope my parents don't meet yours anytime soon then," Charlotte commented, as she applied some lip gloss. With her identity came, Lucy Hazlot, fashion guru. 'I told mine that I was going to Spain for my Spanish work. It'll look mightily suspicious if us three vanish for various reasons.'

"Mm…." Angharad considered her answer, yet it went unspoken, as her jaw dropped. 'What the hell has that girl brought with her?'

On the street stood Gwen, outside her house – but that wasn't what was mystifying. The mystifying thing was the suitcases. Gwen was standing beside, what was obviously her supply of clothes for the next six months, and which oddly resembled a mountain. She waved at the two girls, as the mini came to a halt, ignoring the explosive giggles of Charlotte and the venomous look Angy was shooting her way. Angy clambered out of the car – her face red with fury.

"What – is – that?" Each monosyllabic was punctuated by a vicious point of a finger in the direction of the suitcases. A vein in Angharad's head throbbed with the newfound stress.

"Oh My Clothes," Gwen smiled dopily at her friend, still oblivious to the now dangerously calm look she was receiving. 'Why?'

Angy ran her fingers through her hair in absolute temper. 'Because Bron and me told you to bring three suitcases at the most. On tour you can replenish stock over a couple of weeks.'

"Well…"

"Well nothing, cut down or no tour," Angy replied, sharper than what she had intended. Gwen flounced off to do what had been asked – muttering all the way.

"You've pissed her off…"

"I'm pissed off." Angharad snapped, before jumping back into the car. 'Now hurry up we have a train to catch.'

Bronwen stood alone in the train station, her I-Pod blasting 'Stairway to Heaven' into her ears. . She had been in the train station for the last half hour, and had muted conversation with both the band and Richard – who assured her nothing would happen on this trip – yet conversation was muted due to the fact she was 'The Enemy' commonly known as a journalist.

She stopped talking on seeing the three, waved and walked over to greet the three other journalists.

"Good morning ladies," She sung cheerfully, pushing a pair of specs further up her nose. 'It is very boring waiting here.'

"Bron, you are always bored," Gwen asserted, hoisting her last suitcase out of the Mini's boot. 'And If I'm truthful it scares me when I think of what goes on when your bored.'

Bron shrugged before noting Dougie approaching. She noted the shy smile on his face and nudged Angy. 'Reckon he's shagging her?'

"Yeah,"

"Nah…"

"Bet you a tenner she is." Angy offered her hand and the pair shook sharing a smile. 'Alright Dougie? What can we do for you mate?'

"Um… hi Gwen…" He smiled. Do you want me to carry that stuff in?'

"There's no n –" The sentence was finished by Dougie picking up the suitcases and matching off with them. 'Oh well if you insist,' Gwen finished following him.

Bron rolled her eyes lazily, before they befell Harry. 'Oh Christ… Charl just go.'

Charlotte smiled and moved over to Harry. They shared a kiss before the two moved off talking quietly.

Bronwen looked at Angy with a small smile. 'Typical no white knight in shining armour for us.'

At that moment Danny appeared and Angharad groaned. 'Not him… please anything… but not him.'

"What's wrong with him?" Bron enquired. 'Ooh does Angy have a crush.'

Angy froze recognising the wicked tone on Bron's voice. 'Bron. No. Please no… oh…'

"HEY DANNY!" Danny turned to see Angy glaring at the short piece. 'Angy needs a hand with her equipment…'

"Sure thing," He walked over and hoisted one bag up wincing. 'Bloody hell what've you got in here bricks?'

"All the better to hit you with," Angy murmured as she walked off with him. 'Bron you –'

"Just give me a minute." Bronwen watched as the girl entered the train station, before resting her head on the mini. There was a half-panic in her system.

_Ok Bronwen, this is the big step._ _You do a good review you'll become a rolling stone hero, hey one day you might be able to interview the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan_

The voice of her inner self sounded remarkably like Jane, Bronwen noted. She fingered her locket thoughtfully, before hoisting up her suitcase and beginning to walk over.

Suddenly she caught her heel on an odd bit of paving. She stumbled and managed, just, to throw her suitcase out onto the pavement… yet she couldn't save herself. Hitting the floor hard, Bronwen resisted the urge to cry.

"Bron!" Angharad and Charlotte were running towards her, while Gwen picked up her suitcase. 'Are you alright?' They picked her up gently.

"Stop fussing… I've had worse…" Where and when she couldn't think, she knew her hands were cut and would sting like hell for hours. Instinctively she reached for her locket. Her eyes widened with panic. 'Where's the locket?' She tried to swing around to hunt for it.

In that second there was a cough, and Tom walked forward. 'Is this it?' He pressed the thing into her hand, and she winced as he closed it around the locket. He was being surprisingly tender. 'Sorry for being an arse...'

Bron blushed slightly, and smiled at him. 'Sorry for being a nasty kid…'

"Hey, I should –" He stopped dead on noting that she was about to take her suitcase. 'You're not carrying that!" he protested. 'Look give it here.'

"No," Bronwen snatched the suitcase off of him and glared at him. 'I don't need anyone's help. I'm not six.'

"But your hands will hurt, and you won't be able to type…" He warned, a grin spreading on his face, while an angry glare spread on Bron's. 'Then you won't be able to type your article.'

"One nil to Tom…" Dougie whispered in Gwen's ear, while Harry and Charlotte shushed the giggling pair. 'Hey does this mean that Kellie Sixties is losing an argument?' He said loud enough for Bronwen to hear.

"It means," A wicked grin spread across her face. She walked casually over to a larger suitcase and handed it to Tom who nearly wilted under the weight. 'Master Tom can carry my portable typewriter… always keep a portable copy of everything Tom…' She winked while Tom muttered under his breath.

"I'll take that as a no, she isn't letting him win an argument." Gwen smiled, before hooking arms with Dougie and the group ran into the safety of the train station.

As they went to mount the train, there was a sudden shout.

"Bron!"

Bron turned to see her mother racing down the platform to her. She smiled gently and approached her mother with a small smile. They stopped a few metres apart.

"I take it Jane told you," Bron muttered, smiling at her mother shyly. 'She always did have a big gob.'

"It was Jane who brought me here…" Jen caught her daughter in a hug. 'I'm just to tell you I'm proud of you my girl.'

"Ta ma," Bronwen went to move off before her mother rammed something in her hands. 'Mam?'

"These are from the girl's mums… Sandwiches," Bron gave her mother an exasperated smile. 'Their parent's found out.'"

"Ta Ma," Bron repeated. 'I'll ring every night.'

"Once a week more like. I love you," She suddenly paused. 'No doing what Jane done… this include not coming back with any weird hairdo's and come back home safe.'

Bronwen smiled at her, before noting that Jane was standing looking at her niece, eyes hidden by the infamous aviator sunglasses – her trademark. She moved over.

"Yes?"

"You come home safe my girl or I'll break your little neck." Jane ordered and kissed her head, before noting Angy hanging out the window. 'AND YOU ANGHARAD MAKE SURE SHE COMES BACK!'

"WILL DO JANE!" Angharad yelled, before directing her next yell at Bron. 'COME ON!'

"I gotta…"

"I know," Jane took off her sunglasses and placed them on her nieces face. 'These are yours… I think it's time to hand over the torch… don't you?'

Bron took them off and stared at her, before tears slipped down her cheeks. 'I love you Jane,' she hugged her Aunt close to her. Jane kissed her nieces head with maternal love… she'd never been so close to any of her other nieces. Only Bron. 'You come home safe.'

Bron nodded, before walking down the train, putting on the glasses. Jane smirked. It could've been 70's, from the way she looked. Timeless.


	7. Chapter 7: Boots on the road

_**Six**_

_**There must be some way out of here,**_

_**Said the joker to the thief,  
There's too much confusion, I cant get no relief**_

_**© Bob Dylan: All along the Watchtower **_

"_**So take heed, take heed of the western wind,  
Take heed of the stormy weather.  
And yes, there's something you can send back to me,"  
**_  
The sound of 'Boots of Spanish Leather' echoed through the night sleeper train. Angharad sighed as she finished checking her photography gear. None of it had been broken in the journey – much unlike Paris when most of it had broken. The guitars continued and she smiled.

She recognised the voice as Bob Dylan – she had to admit Bron's taste in music varied. Although her love for The Beatles reined her life, she had grown up with singers such as Melanie and The Rolling Stones as her lullabies.

Angharad paced down the corridor, to Bron's bedroom… or cabin?

Fuck it.

With a defiant toss of her hair, she flung open the door to find Bron, lounging on top of the bed singing along to the new song playing on her I-Pod player. Danny was sitting in the chair opposite her, staring in absolute amazement at her.

"Hello Miss Locke," Bron sat up and studied her best friend with a smile. Angy recognised the smile. She'd just finished an interview. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

"Was about to tell you to turn this crap off." Angy gestured to the player. The song had changed to a deeper voice again. 'What's this then bucko?'

"This is The Doors!" Danny seemed horrified that Angy had no musical knowledge of this band. 'Some musical photographer you are.'

"Go suck cock," Angharad snapped. 'And there is _**a**_ door and get out!'

Bron watched the Bolton man move off moodily. She sighed and blocked her ears as he slammed the door shut, although her wince was instant. Once reassured that he had gone she opened her eyes and looked at Angy. The tall blonde was casually listening to the music of The Doors, as it changed to 'Hello I Love you'.

_  
_"Why are you staring at me?" Angy turned to her. 'Ok I was a tiniest bit harsh.'

"Harsh isn't the word. Brutal is," Bron stood and stretched. 'What's the gossip then?'

"Meaning?"

"Is it true that Dougie and Gwen are shagging?" Bron's brutal honesty stood out a mile. Angy nodded. 'There's a tenner down the drain and Maggie Mae?'

"Charlotte?" Angharad laughed. The term 'Maggie Mae' referred to the infamous Liverpool song about a Lime Street prostitute – and Jo's nickname for Charlotte. 'She's with Harry… seems they've struck up quite a friendship.'

"How nice for them," Bron commented drily as she threw her notebook in her suitcase and made a motion for Angy to sit down. She did so. 'Well?? What do you think?'

"Well the band has got a recording studio in the Tour Train," Angy shrugged. 'Never heard of that before… mind you I've never heard of a tour train before.'

"It's impressive… now let's get pissed and wreck it," Bronwen joked.

Angharad laughed softly, before eying Bron solemnly. The spectacled teenager was fiddling with her specs – obviously considering if to put her sunglasses on. The two travelled together regularly, and it was a fact of life that they were like sisters. Angy the eldest and the sensible one, Bron the evil bugger and Gwen the baby – Charlotte was the spoilt brat.

"Look I'm going to do some typing up and emailing," Angy stood, and patted her friend on the shoulder. 'What are you going to do?'

"Probably ring Jane," Bron stretched again. 'By the way when we're in London I've booked a room for us?'

"Whereabouts? Not the NME digs again?"

"No don't be soft!" Bron smiled at her. 'Jane's house… it's empty while she's in Wales… mind you,' she scratched her chin. 'I found a rock star wandering around in there… oh you know him Angy… tall bloke…'

"Everyone's tall to you,"

"No _really_ tall, had a nice arse…. Blue eyes no brown… I think yes… no…." She floundered in consideration. 'Oh you do know him!'

"I really don't,"

"Sings with that band…."

"REALLY helpful… The Beatles?"

"No, handsome chap, you should know you sha-"

"Leni! Leni Hopkins… he was in that Punk Band…. The Defunct was it?"

"That's the one," Bron flopped onto the bed with a smile. 'You really should stick to one lad Angharad… you know fall in love…'

"Like you?" Angharad teased. Bron was one of those people who believed in free love – yet remained single. In her opinion she wasn't destined for children, despite the rapport she had with them.

"I'm too busy for love," Bron assured her like usual. 'Go see G by the way… this is the first time she's been away from home without her Mam or Dad… and for a long time too. She's not used to it.'

This unusual burst of affection surprised Angharad whom was used to seeing Bron's usual infuriating attitude of being systematically cutting (something when she wanted to could be childish and horrible) and mischievous. 'Very nice –'

"Don't tell her." Bron smiled, before settling back on the bed. 'Close the door on your way out, and Angy I'll lend you The Doors later…'

"Ta Bron."

Angy moved off, with a smile, down the corridor to Gwen's bedroom. Gwen was sitting writing when Angy stood in the doorway.

"Hey Gwen," She called over. Gwen turned. 'Not feeling homesick are you?'

"What?" Gwen suddenly noted that Angy was looking at her writing. 'Oh this? No I'm just sketching –' she held up a sketch.

The sketch was that of Angharad grinning from behind an old fashioned camera, the ones you had to twist the lens to get it to focus. She looked so journalistic in that shot. Sketched Gwen was standing just off-centre of the paper – smiling as she did a 'thumbs up' pose. Charlotte's sketch was reflected off of a 'mirror' she was presumably doing her makeup in. Above in red were the words:  
'THE ENEMY'

"I'm just starting Bron, I'm going to sprawl her across the writing," Gwen said, putting the notebook down.

"Well she's lazing in there," Angharad jerked a thumb in the general direction of Bronwen's room. 'Listening to some music, you could sketch her at the moment without her noticing.' She looked at the Sketch calmly. 'When did you become so good at art?'

"Since before you started going away on tours with bands," Gwen said affably, although Angy knew it was a slight dig on Gwen's part.

Angharad and Gwen had met whilst in Primary School. Angy had walked up to her on the playground and asked if they could play together. They'd been together since that moment. They'd been in the same form in school and college – and it was Charlotte and Bron's favourite joke that Angy couldn't escape her. And despite Angy's complaints about it, she really didn't want to separate. No matter how tempting.

Yet the two friends didn't have time truly to be friendly in some parts of life nowadays. Angy, after all, had a job to conduct and to do well, and while hers consisted of constant travel, Gwen had to stay home like Charlotte. Yet over the short periods they were together – they were friends, although both acknowledged they were drifting.

It wasn't until they'd gone to Paris, Angy had realised how far they'd drifted apart. Gwen wasn't used to slumming it in digs and squats. Bron lived her life for the adventure – whilst Angy managed it, imagining the plumy rewards at the end. But Gwen hated it. She'd argued every day with everyone – even the band. A flourishing relationship with the band's bassist on Angy's part had been ruined because of her defence of Gwen…. Something HAD to give.

"Look I'm sorry alright," Angy admitted. 'I know me and you haven't had time to spend together, but it's because I've got a different job to you.' Gwen didn't speak for a few moments. 'Gwen…'

"It's frustrating alright?" Gwen turned to her. 'I'm a journo on that magazine too – people respect me. I write my advice and people listen to it. But it doesn't get me out of trouble… neither does it darling Lucy Hazlot…' Charlotte's identity. 'But mention the great team which is Angie McDuff and Kellie Sixties and POW! The world turns.'

"CAN I HELP THAT?!" Angharad shouted, her temper finally wearing thin. 'I didn't ask for this position! I was thrust into the limelight!'

This was true. Angy had been thrust into the eyes of the ever watchful Jo completely by accident. Bron, already a journalist on the magazine, had grown argumentative with her old photographer – and requested Angy.

The legends that were Angie McDuff and Kellie Sixties had been kindled that day.

"Yes, you could cry halt!"

"Why should I?" Angharad bit out. 'I _LIKE_ what I do. I like being this underground photojournalist. I like the fact people look at my work and think 'Wow'."

"See you've gotten bigheaded!"

"No! I like the work I do, it's just you can't take the fact that me and Bron have been working together and I haven't been able to focus on our relationship!" Angy bit out correctly. 'I know it used to be the threesome – me you and Bron and maybe Charlotte… but times change. Me and Bron have gone to a totally new spectrum now. I can't be all 'Hey Gwen let's do this!' I'd love to but I can't. I've grown up the tiniest little bit more than you… and it's just something that can't be changed.'

"Yeah well," Gwen returned to sketching. 'It's just annoying.'

"GWEN DAVIES!" The raised voice alerted Gwen to the fact she was treading thin ice. 'I am not choosing her over you. For Gods sake Gwen, we're best friends! I know everything about you and you know all my secrets – and Bron's for that matter!'

Gwen bit her lip, suddenly realising her inaccuracy of feelings. She realised that it was her who allowed things to drift. By ignoring little things Angy had told her and not paying attention to these little laughs they shared – or listening to the full extent of their stories… they were tearing each other apart

"Angy I…"

There was a gentle tap at the door, and Gwen sighed heavily. There was no time for the wicked or sinners. 'Come on in.'

Bronwen entered her face red and a small smile on her face.

"Hey you –" She stopped on seeing the twos expressions. 'Not interrupting any of your affairs, am I?'

Angharad sensing the double-entrée in those words chuckled. 'Oh aye my friend what do you want?'

Bron pulled a face at Angy before flopping onto Gwen's bed – not even bothering to kick off her boots. Gwen glared at her, whilst Bron simply continued to search in her pocket.

"Found this note in my journal," Bron merely tossed a crumpled piece of work onto the desk in front of Gwen. 'It's Jane's handwriting.'

Gwen picked it up before reading aloud:

_"Hi Ladies, Jane here. When you become a music journalist or just travel with a band whether you're a groupie or a roadie you follow a set of rules. These are the ones for music journalists ladies...  
They're a sort of know-how:  
1. Know that when a scandal occurs or is leaked it'll be your fault  
let yourself believe that a band loves or are friends with you... they need you to write nice reviews  
fall in love with a musician_

Once all that's done your all set to become:  
_**The Enemy"**_

**

"What's that all about?" Angy asked, frowning. 'Jane never struck me as someone to give advice.'

"Well she does – normally it's quite good… but falling in love with one of those arses?" Bron snorted through her nose. 'No thanks.'

"But too late for Madame here, so what's he like in the sack?" Angharad teased.

Gwen went scarlet as the two girls laughed with her… after all sometimes even friendship although threatened survived.


	8. 8: Trouble In the realm of the beatles

The girls in the story are aged 18-19 to anyone who doesn't know, and the events of this crush is totally fiction.

* * *

**Seven**

_I'm in a rock and roll band_

_Riding in a Stutz Bearcat Jim_

_Those were different times_

_And the poets studied rules of verse_

_And all the ladies rolled there eyes  
__**Sweet Jane © Lou Reed**_

"Ah, Liverpool."

"Home of..."

"...Liverpudlian's."

"You know what it is I like about Liverpool, Miss Evans?"

"No, what is it you like about Liverpool, Miss Davies?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me."

Charlotte and Gwen shared a gentle laugh before they returned to their food. They were sat around a cheap laminated table in the Seaman's Mission, wolfing down heaping bowls of corn flakes. It was late in the morning on an uncharacteristically warm day in Liverpool, England.

The train had rolled into Liverpool in the early hours.

The two had just rolled out of bed a short time earlier – although their other two companions had already gone out. Little conversation interrupted their meal, famished as they were. Their appearance was that of tired teenagers. Scruffy blue jeans and not quite white t-shirts completed the look.

"Hello ladies," Danny announced as the group joined the two girls. 'What're you two doing with the rest of your day?'

"Shopping," Charlotte replied. 'Well I am anyway. What're you doing Gwen?'

"I was thinking of having a look in the Walker Art Gallery," Gwen said thoughtfully. 'Dougie was telling me yesterday, that there is a whole wing dedicated to Manga and Anime art,'

"If you want I'll come with you?" Dougie offered with a smile. 'I need to get out.'

"And I'll come with you shopping," Harry smiled at Charlotte lovingly. 'You can max out on my credit card.'

_Well at Least Charlotte's happy,_ Danny thought to himself as he looked around. 'Say, where has Angharad got to?'

"She's gone to that library and then she's picking up some more clothes…" Charlotte said. Danny raised an eyebrow in question. 'Oh, Bron's typewriter leaked over her summer shirts.'

"Is that the screaming I could hear going on last night?" Tom asked. Both girls nodded confirmation. 'So where is the dear little short arse holed up?'

"This is Liverpool, and she's a Beatle fanatic where'd you think?" Danny replied sarcastically. 'Either the Beatles museum or in The Mathew Street gallery. Now come on, we'll go hunt them down. We've got a performance in a couple of hours and I want to see what they're like OUTSIDE of their journalist's clothes.'

**

"All the world's a stage,  
And all the men and women merely players;  
They have their exits and their entrances;  
And one man in his time plays many parts"

Angharad recited the piece as she flicked through the book – there was a small bag next to her which held her new clothing. It had cost her £50 and Bron was going to cough up.

Angy chuckled nastily at the thought of Bronwen's face when she revealed the price: _How much??? What did you do? Make it you're bloody self?_

"As you like it? William Shakespeare? Miss Locke you surprise me!" Angy looked up into the freckled face of Danny Jones and frowned. 'Ooh I'm sorry.'

"You're standing in my light," She explained. He grinned sheepishly and sat down. 'Thank you.'

"Pleasure." He looked over her shoulder and smiled. 'I like that one. It's a comedy?'

"Yeah, I'm just reading it for this one part," Angy said, smiling at the boy. For once he wasn't acting the fool or bugging her. He was treating her like a human being. 'What're you doing?'

"Looking for you and Bronwen, Angharad." He responded honestly. 'We've got a concert in a couple of hours and I wanted to meet you as Angharad Locke – woman not journo.'

"Angy."

"You what?"

"My friends call me Angy."

The ice was broken.

**

Bronwen stood opposite the white piano, a small smile fixed on her face.

Whenever she came to Liverpool, she always came to the Beatles Museum. She was even on first name terms with the Tour Manager Julia Baird – John Lennon's sister – who often offered her a job when she came there. In fact, she'd even offered her dinner the last time she'd been here… Bron had gratefully accepted.

She'd been an obsessed Beatles fan since the age of 14. Her mate, Mathew, had lent her the DVD of 'A Hard Days Night' and the CD 'Rubber Soul.' It had quickly become Bron's obsession. She was fascinated by their wit and their pure determination. She loved the brutality of Lennon's songs, the soppiness of Paul's, the philosophy of George's and the childlike innocence of Ringo's.

The 'Imagine' piano was a symbol. It symbolised what she had once written about in her unpublished novel – how friendship never died. Even now, after the death of two it was still the four men you seemed to clutch to. She sighed, and rubbed at her face.

"Hey," She turned her head slightly to see Tom. 'What're you here for?'

She turned around completely to look at him. 'I'm here for the view. What about you?'

"Who says I'm not?" He asked politely. 'Feeling alright?'

"Yeah... excited about the gig tonight?"

"Liverpool's always a good gig. But it always feels weird… you know we're in the hands of the Gods and the realms of The Beatles." She looked at him with a smile.

'Hey you're not the only one whose listened to Live At The BBC pal…'

"Yeah well… the world works in funny ways…" She ran her fingers through her hair. 'What times the gig?'

"Half two…"

"Better be off then."

**

Anfield was packed to the rafters for "The McFly: Journey unto black hole tour" Liverpool concert. Charlotte watched from the wings as the people piled in.

Teeny-bopper girls were striding in, complete with McFly t-shirts and high-pitched laughter. She smiled gently as she watched a group of four girls – one moody looking, (Bron) one with a camera, (Angy) one gazing around in awe (Gwen) and the final one throwing flirtatious glances at the stage.

Definitely me – she thought to herself.

"Enjoying yourself?" Harry asked as he approached. 'It's a great feeling isn't it?'

"Brilliant." She agreed, as he gently pulled her in for a kiss. 'Just like…'

"Oh god don't people do that sort of thing in bedrooms anymore?" Bron asked as she approached a frown firmly on her face. 'Harry, Richard wants a final word before The Bureaucrats finish their set.'

"Ta Bron," He smiled at her before kissing Charlotte gently and moving off. 'I'll see you later.'

Charlotte gave him a childish wave, before turning to glare at Bron, who had been joined by Angy. The two stared at her before bursting out laughing.

"Oh come on Charl, its funny!" Angy giggled.

"No it isn't," She noted that the pair was dressed in warm jackets and jeans. 'I thought you were watching the show?'

"We are," Bron replied. 'But from there.' She pointed to the front of the audience. 'Angy can get better shots, and I can get firsthand knowledge.'

"Can I?"

"No…" The two replied shortly before heading to the exit. 'Get Dougie!'

"If you can prise him off Gwen," Angy added.

"Yes Missus," Charlotte murmured moodily. Sometimes she could really hate that pair.

**

_The show opening was relatively straight forward with lots of bounding teenagers. The band didn't mime *Tom's cock up – check with him later* made sure of that. _

"You can be brutal can't you?"

Bron chuckled as Angharad used Bron's earlier retort against her. "Hey I'm a music journalist. I write what I see," She looked behind her, as she noted that more fans were being ushered in. 'It's like cattle... teenybopper cattle... all for a Beatle imitating band.'

"Could be worse. Could be Oasis."

"I like Oasis."

Angy joined her in the snort of laughter, before they were shoved forward suddenly. 'Fucking hell… what the pissing hell is going on?'

"The crowd," Bron shrugged dismissively. 'Let's just get on with the concert.'

**

Unbeknownst to them, Richard was talking to Gwen and Charlotte behind the scenes. The two girls were standing in the wings with a prime viewing. Gwen mouthing along to every song being sung.

"Hey girls…" Richard approached with a smile. 'Good isn't it?'

"Yeah." Both girls replied in unison.

"There's two of you? Where are the others?" Richard's voice rose a little with concern.

"Why?" Gwen asked rightfully.

"Because there's a possibility that there could be a crush ," Richard emphasized the word 'Crush' with a flick of his hand. 'If the crowd becomes overexcited they'll charge... and I mean CHARGE…'

Both girls began to search the audience. Gwen could only see fans.

Then Charlotte spotted them.

Angy was sitting on the security gate, snapping away. Bron was standing on the ground next to her, pen and paper in hand. She caught her friends eye and gave a slight flick of her hand.

"They're by there," Charlotte raced onto stage, interrupting Danny mid "you're not alone.'

An uproar from the audience. The two girls stared in amazement as Harry clambered over to talk to the hysterical girl.

"WHAT IS IT!"

"GET THEM OUT!" Charlotte was screaming, pointing at the two girls.

At that moment the crowd broke loose.

The anger of a teenage girl invading the stage and then being comforted was too much for some. They began to scream and shove forward. The security gate tipped and the two girls were thrown into the crowd. Angy managed to land upright, although Bron caught her by the scruff and dragged her up so she wasn't tipped by the momentum.

Instantly there was a clamour to get to the stage or out from the crowd. Bron and Angy fought desperately, Angy flinging the camera onto stage. Danny picked it up and stared at it.

Bron desperately shoved her notebook into her pocket. 'PUSH BACK!' she screamed. 'TRY!'

She managed to spin and Angharad imitated her friend's action. The two tried to push back, although they found that they were usurping the turf.

"WELL THAT WAS USELESS!" Angy screamed, although she soon found a haven for a moment, as she span again and found a booth in her way. With surprising strength she kicked her leg up against the booth and held it for a few moments.

"BRON!" Angy watched in horror as Bron was shoved further forward by the crowd until she hit the front of the stage. Her head was thrown back in pain… then she vanished.

For a moment there seemed to be a deathly silence, before Angy watched as the band leapt from the stage and began their ministrations. The pressure was lessening – and then she made the mistake of moving as she watched as Tom lifted the limp Bron from the crowd and carry her quickly to the stage.

Then she lost all focus.

Her body slammed hard against the stages front and she lost all ability to scream as the crowd continued to press against her. Unbeknownst her, she was already on the first stages of Compressive asphyxia, an action would kill her if something didn't give soon.

She scrabbled desperately against the iron praying she could climb over. Things began to echo – and in that moment she knew she was about to die. No matter how quickly they were sorting this out, she knew if she didn't get out she would die. The others at the front were being lifted – but she was invisible.

The world around her began to blacken and above the sound of the stewards pulling away girls – she heard her name.

"ANGHARAD LOCKE!"

She turned to it, as an angel with curly hair and blue eyes gently took her by the arms and lifted her.

**

"She's suffered contusions to the face and bruised her ribs… it's a miracle she wasn't killed,"

The Doctor was speaking to deaf ears. Well on Bron and Danny's part anyway. Whilst Richard listened intently, Bron had her head pressed into her hands, and her necklace was hanging from her closed fist. She was murmuring. Danny was looking at her.

"You can stop staring you know," She spoke with surprising sentiment, as she brought her head up to look at him. 'She'll be back soon.'

"She's really ill…"

"She's been stabbed. That is a lot worse," Bron murmured. 'June last year – that time it was my fault. I picked a fight with the wrong girl… Angy got in the way and had to have an operation. Her mother thought we'd been attacked. Never corrected her – it still gives me the creeps…'

"You and her, been through a lot together then?"

"Aye. Both started out there," Bron chuckled. 'Dan do you mind sitting with her for a bit, My shoulder hurts like hell…'

"Sure thing… what do I do when she wakes up?"

"Just talk to her…" Bron shrugged, before wincing. 'I'll see you in a mo.'

**

When Angy awoke she found the deafening noise of the concert was replaced with the clinical silence of the ward.

"Hey there," She looked up to find Danny smiling tentatively. 'You've been in the wars girl…'

"Why do I hurt all over? Where are the girls?" Angy tried to sit up only to be pushed back down into her place by Danny. 'Danny where are they?'

"They're in the tour train. Waiting for news. All apart from Bron."

"Is she ok?"

"Seems she snapped some muscle in her shoulder." Danny shrugged. 'I can't tell you much… you shouldn't be here by rights…'

Suddenly Angharad was hit with the image of the angel. The blurred image of the angel cleared slightly and she realised that Danny was the man who'd saved her. 'You saved my life.'

"It was nothing. I could see you were in danger…" he was blushing profusely under his curls. 'Look… this is going to sound insensitive but are you willing to discharge yourself from hospital… because we'd love to have you on the tour with us…. I mean…'

"I'll be back on tour," She smiled, before gently pressing her hand to his. 'Thank you.'


	9. Chapter 9: Got to get out of this place

_**Sorry about this 'drabble' chapter. I'm never happy with it no matter what I do. **_

**_Introducing Julian for another plotline sorry :( _**

* * *

_**Eight**_

_**On the heroes tomb is written  
Not what he was, but what he should've been  
And nothing you can do will change the circumstances  
Just a mild infuriation with statistics of sin**_

_**© Julian Lennon: Rebel King**_

"Bleeding hell," Gwen Davies looked up from reading one of her letters to see that Ryan, McFly's physio coach, was still trying to knead the knot of messed-up tendon in Bronwen's shoulder. 'Ryan just quit it!'

"If you didn't squirm I wouldn't be wrestling," He snapped back, Bron responded by shrugging her shoulders defiantly.

"You alright Bron?" She asked politely, but received a deadly look nonetheless for her efforts. 'Ooh sorry.'

"Piss off," Ryan advised, with his slight Australian accent. 'Go see Dougie.'

Gwen nodded, deciding it was safer than irritating the brawny Ryan and the short-fused Bron. Both were in murderous moods. She stood and headed out of the commune area and down the corridors of the train. She sighed as she spied Tom looking dejectedly outside.

Since the incident, the group had been reined in by their record label. Although many parents and fans acknowledged that the incident had been an accident – the tabloid newspapers claimed the opposite. Even The Sun, Liverpool's most hated enemy, had taken up the campaign. Once when Richard was asked by Danny 'When do we go out?', Richard had bitterly replied _'You wanted Beatle-mania, here we go!'_

She paused outside Dougie's room before entering. He was lying on the bed, wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He sat up on seeing his girlfriend, and caught her by the hand pulling her into his arms.

One good thing which had come out from the tour was her and Dougie's relationship. Due to being trapped on the tour train – both sets of parents had been forced to meet on neutral ground in Liverpool. Luckily both had been charmed by the 'children' so had been glad to give their permission for them to date.

"Any news on when we're going to the next tour date?" she asked, as he pressed his face into her neck.

He planted the smallest hint of a kiss on her neck. 'Sorry Love, I have no idea… Richard says unless someone writes a decent article about what happened… then we are stuck here disappointing fans.'

**

_The fans were crawling closer and closer. Their hands reached to the stars and they began to push at her. Push her back into the depths of pain and destruction. _

"Angy?" Angharad jerked out of her nightmare, as Danny gently shook her shoulder. 'You alright girl?'

"Oh, it's you Dan," She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. The nightmares since the accident had been haunting her – and she knew that she had become something of a recluse. 'What do you want?'

"Just checking on you," He frowned, at her. She had become paler since the last time they had spoken… which was about 3 nights ago. 'Feeling alright?'

"Yeah," She rubbed at her face, but she could feel his eyes burning into her. 'Ok I'm truthful. No.'

"Still dreaming?" He asked, sitting down opposite her. 'Why don't you talk about it?'

"Because I cant," she whispered, sadly. 'It… hurts just to think about it.'

"Hey where's the spunky kid I knew who hates my guts," He replied, reaching over and touching her hand. 'I was there that night too… I know how it was…'

"You have no idea," whispered Angy. 'To have people pushing into you and not stopping… and your praying that something gives and you have no idea if something will… and you cant see your friends because your already beginning to die… and you want to scream and you don't have enough air in your lungs… so you settle for just trying not to step into that darkness which is swallowing you… and then you think that you'll never see your own parents or brother again… and you don't even know if your friends are alive…' She bit back a sob. 'And you fight and fight but it gets you nowhere.'

At that moment she began to weep into her hands, and Danny caught her in his arms. He just held her close and let her cry out her tears – soon his own tears mingled with hers. He wept for the fact that he had almost lost her in the maelstrom of fans. Suddenly she looked up into his face.

"Spend the night with me will you Dan? Please," she whispered. 'Just hold me don't let me go.'

"Hey I'm your guardian angel, I wont leave," He whispered as he drew a cover over them and allowed her to snuggle tight into his arms.

**

Charlotte however was already lying contented in Harry's arms. The drummer was breathing lightly on her shoulder and she stroked his face with a smile.

It was a strange sensation, love, she found. She yearned to spend all day in his arms. Although, she mostly did that, and he seemed to enjoy it – she smiled and rolled out of bed – the cold air instantly hitting her. She entangled herself in pillows and covers before leaving the bedroom to head into Angy's room.

Since the beginning of the previous year, Angy had been secretly smoking. She'd tried to hide it from Charl and Gwen – but Bron's constant moans about the stench of smoke (there was no stench) had reassured them that she was smoking. Charlotte, herself, a smoker decided she needed a fag.

When she entered the room, she discovered Angy sleeping – for once restfully. She was resting upon Danny's naked chest, as he slept his left arm wrapping her tight within his protective grasp.

With a slight hint of concern – Charlotte sighed. In her own mind the two made the perfect couple, although she doubted they could see it – and she knew much better than to push it upon them.

She settled upon picking up the fags and leaving the room to the sleeping pair.

**

_The incident at Anfield has caused a plethora of angry feelings, here in Britain. Many bands have commented on the shoddy security which could have cost many their lives – being caught in the crush I feel that…._

Bronwen sighed as she read over her article on The McFly-gate incident. She had realised that if she ever wanted to leave Liverpool… she needed to get her arse out of line and work.

_  
_"Hey," Bron looked up from her typing, as Tom Fletcher came in. 'What're you doing?'

"Just typing up my article," She pulled it out from her typewriter and held it out. 'What do you think so far?'

Tom smiled and took it from between her fingers with a small hint of appreciation of her trust in his eyes. As he flicked over it, he noted that Bron was wincing in pain about her shoulder, although he remained fascinated about the article.

It was cutting about many things – but it remained polite and yet she wasn't overtly critical like before. He smiled gently and handed it back to her. She placed it underneath some work.

"I think it's well written," He said, nodding appreciatively. She smiled at him, although she winced in pain. 'Taken your meds?'

What are you my mother?!" Bron replied indignantly. 'Of course I did… I'm supposed to have this physiotherapy crap, but I'm not.'

Suddenly, Tom had pressed her into her seat securely and was massaging her shoulder. She winced for a moment, before the feeling overtook her and immense pleasure trilled through the ripped tendon.

"Ooh," She moaned out, as the rubbing became more harsh and she rolled her head back in pleasure, before realising it was Tom doing this to her. She tried to stand but he kicked the seat so she would sit. 'Tom stop.'

"No, I like this." He grinned wickedly.

She suddenly shoved the chair back and tipped it. He was thrown against the bed whilst she flipped and found herself straddling him. The air suddenly seemed to freeze as they both realised their close proximity.

"Well this is new," She stated calmly.

Before Tom could respond, there was a knock at the door and Richard stood there. He glanced between the two, as they flushed and quickly parted.

"Bron… Jane's sent you a personal bodyguard…"

"I hate her."

**

In the dining car everyone was staring at the sunglassed man. He was standing, arms folded and popping gum.

No one spoke – for the man was the living image of John Lennon. His hair was longer – and had a slight tinge of grey in the back. His clothes were that of casual, a simple blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

It wasn't until Bron entered that anyone spoke. She burst into laughter as did he and they caught each other in the tightest of hugs. He lifted her slightly off the floor and she squealed indignantly. He laughed, and righted her, kissing her cheek lovingly.

"Julian Lennon, if I dare to live and breathe! So you're the bugger, who's cutting off the tour and joining our forces of darkness?" She laughed in her welsh tones.

"Indeed I am Miss Tyler jnr." He agreed. He looked at the others with mild smile – Angharad was the first to break a grin. 'I see your now recognising me?'

"Sorry Jules but it is pretty creepy when you see the image of your dad standing there!" Smiled Angy as she too hugged him, although she winced at the slight pressure at her ribs. 'How've you been keeping?'

"Exhausted, remind me never to release another album." He kissed Bron's head before turning to McFly. 'In case you haven't gathered it, my name is Julian Lennon. You can call me Julian, Jules, Juley but never Lennon or Lennie.'

"Yeah he get's cheesed… like a mouse," Bron grinned childishly. He gave her a cuff over the head. She scowled. 'Why?'

"I enjoy inflicting pain," he teased. The affection between the two obvious.

"Very cocky aren't we?" Angharad commented. He laughed companionably, something he rarely did, yet when he did it filled the room with smiles.

"It's part and package of being a Lennon girl, plus Jane wants me to keep an eye on you lot. Your mother, Bron, is shitting herself down in Wales.' Julian smiled fondly at the thought of Bron's eccentric family.

"She's always worried," Angy pointed out correctly. In her opinion Jen had always been too serious although rare displays of humour often showed her as manic as her daughter. Although the suicide act of her husband and Bron's father, Peter, had left her stronger and more bitter.

"Should've seen her in the 80's," Julian rolled his eyes back into his head as he began to laugh. 'Oh Christ, the amount of times she got us locked up and didn't get in the shit! Being two years older than Jane did pay off. She was brilliant.' The last sentence was tinged with slight anger and sadness.

"I bet…" Angy paused, before noting the scrap of paper in Bron's hand. With one deft motion she snatched it out of Bron's hand. 'Bron you shock me, testosterone doesn't have two t's.'

"Jo is the editor and this is our ticket out of Liverpool… no offence Julian but I'm sick of your aunty Julia's welsh cakes… I'm getting fat."

"What do you mean getting?" teased Julian, poking her stomach. Bron slapped his fingers away. 'Ow!' he sucked on his fingers in gregarious pain.

"Good, I'm glad that she hurt you," Angharad said, before turning to Bron. 'Really think it'll work?'

"I hope it will, I cant say for certain though." Bron shrugged. 'Only time will tell.'

"You really want this stuff don't you?" Angharad asked gently.

"Well, it's just…" Bron raised her eyebrows, as she looked at her friend. 'This is it… this is our career break… we can stop being underground.'

"Not underground," Angy ran her fingers through her hair. 'Wow…'

"Can you imagine it Angy?" Bron leant her head back, in thought. 'Jetting around the world at a whipstitch. Interviewing Dylan and Springsteen. Life on the road.'

"We do that anyway… just without Springsteen and Dylan."

"Touché, my photographing friend.'

***

It was only two hours later when a response came through, Bron broke a grin as she entered the room. 'We're going to Newcastle.'


	10. Chapter 10: Fog and danger on the tyne

Nine

Could a copper catch a crooked coffin maker  
Could a copper comprehend  
That a crooked coffin maker is just an undertaker  
Who undertakes to be a friend?  
And the fog on the tyne is all mine

© The fog on the Tyne: Lindisfarne

Newcastle upon-Tyne, city of the magpie and home of the Tyne river.  
Kicking her way down the familiar dockland's, Bron smiled to herself. It was such a familiar smile. She could make out the familiar Tyne coffee shops, and she felt the laugh rise in her throat. These streets were where she'd grown up in many cases, and there was the unfamiliar sense of quiet.  
She was _home_.

"Ugh, look at this dump." Charlotte most definitely was not. 'There's rats, ugh.'  
"It's the docklands what do you expect?" Bron enquired, angrily. She glared at her. 'Charl if you're that desperate for a room to spend the night, go back to the train.'  
Charl looked surprised. She'd never heard Bron snap so quickly at her. 'But…'  
"Piss off." Bron picked up her suitcase, Angharad smirked. 'And what's wrong with you?'  
"Just thinking, the last time I came here with you, I had nearly exactly the same conversation," Angharad responded. Bron laughed, remembering before they moved off.  
Angy noted the streets in respectful silence. They were still marred from Thatcherite Britain, and yet the smile that alighted Bron's face was enough to make these streets seem full and lively again.

**

Number 24 Park Road, Newcastle upon-Tyne was silent apart from the sound of Elvis Costello and The Attraction's 'The Beat' playing in the air and the distant whistling of the kettle on the Aga fire.  
One member of the household was lying upside down on the sofa, watching the television from a warped sense of vision. This was Bronwen. A girl was sitting reading the latest Tony Hill novel, with a frown of concentration on her face. This was Angharad. Another was applying lipstick and nodding her head to the bass-line of the song whilst the final member of the group, another female, smoked a silent cigarette. These were Gwen and Charlotte.  
To a silent uninformed observer, this was merely a household of teenagers. Teenagers with nothing better to do with their time but sit around and do nothing. A disgrace on society and the country itself – a stereotypical view, true but something which would undoubtedly run through the mind of many.  
"Bloody hell I'm bored," Bron stated, flipping off the sofa. She rolled out of her current position and onto the floor.  
"We're all bored Bron," Angharad smiled gently, putting down the book and rubbing her eyes. Beneath them exhaustion had taken a hold. Hours of photography was taking it's toll. 'But there's nothing we can do.'  
"Yes there is, we can go out," Gwen suggested. 'We're not under lock and key…'  
"Who says, hello love," Dougie kissed her as he came in. Gwen grinned, whilst Bron made puking noises. 'Where can we go?'  
Danny smiled at Angy as he put his arm around her shoulder. 'How about we go to… The stage club?'  
"That dingy little hole just off of the Tyne?" Angy said turning in surprise. 'Where all the old gangsters used to hang out?'  
Danny nodded. 'Yeah.., we could go as pairs. Me and you, Gwen and Dougs, Charl and Harry… Bron and…" he trailed off.  
Tom was sitting next to Bron, the two bickering in whispers. Something they both sadistically enjoyed, although neither admitted that they enjoyed the others company. It was a healthier relationship now as well.  
"Go together?" Bron chuckled as Tom dug at her side. 'Sounds cool.'  
"Half six pick up?" Dougie asked, smiling as he stood. 'See you all later.'

**

The Stage club in Newcastle was one of the hottest places to visit, especially when you were a four man band, and had 4 intrepid journalists with you.  
"Evening!" Bron shouted, as she walked into the club. The bartender turned and smiled on seeing her. 'How are you Gray?'  
"Fucking hell little Bronnie Tyler and Angharad Locke where've you been?" laughed the big man, hugging her to him. 'Who're the brats?'  
"McFly," Angy said, also reaching over to hug Gray. 'How are you big man?'  
"Cant complain," he glanced at the window. 'Some big guys come in earlier, looking for you Bron… looked like some of The G lot.'  
Angy glanced at Bron, who was being served by another man. Every inch of colour had left her face. 'G?' she enquired. Bron took a gulp from her drink.  
"Who dares wins," Bron responded, frowning. 'SAS. Why they're in town I don't know.'  
Angy nodded. She knew Bron's uncle had served with them, although he now ran a quiet pub in Brecon – not that Bron ever mentioned his proper name. She knew all the 'Tyler's' used assumed names but Bron only referred to him as Chris Tyler – his surname all but obliterated by the fact he was ex-SAS. The two moved over to their table, still talking in whispers.  
"Is that bad? Them being in town like?" she asked. Bron's eyes connected with her blue, and she slowly realised that Bron was pale with anxiety. 'Bron?'  
"It's not good, there's been trouble stirring as of late," Bron explained. She lifted her glass. 'Sláinte'  
"Cheers," Charlotte responded cheerfully. 'Gaelic? I didn't know you spoke it.'  
"Small little bits," Bron said, although her eyes didn't meet the others  
The conversation was forgotten when the group got up to dance abandoning Bron and Tom.  
"Slán agus beannacht leat!" Bron shouted, laughing as the girls slipped their hands around the boys' back and began to slow dance. Tom shook his head. 'Good blessings be with you.'  
"Oh," Tom smiled at her. 'Don't you want to dance?'  
"Can't," Bron tapped at her knee cap. 'Weak kneecap, fell down the stairs in Lori's last night.'  
"Shit," Tom leant over and rubbed it for her. She winced 'Shit, hurt?'  
"Not bad," she shook her head. 'It'll teach me to answer the phone in the dark.'  
Tom laughed as he gently put his arm around her shoulder, tenderly missing the wounded left. She smiled at him thankfully. Although the peace of the situation would soon be obliterated.  
"Excuse me Miss?"  
Bron turned to see one of the big men from the window that Gray had warned her about. His face was scarred, and Tom couldn't help but be drawn to them. Bron had stiffened next to him, and he sat up ready for any fight.  
"Yes sir?" she pushed Tom slowly down into his seat.  
"Come with us,"  
"Go hifreann leat!" Bronwen snapped. (To hell with you)  
"Nil Gaeilge maith agam" the man replied.  
"Fine, to hell with you!" Bronwen continued. The man put his hand on her shoulder.  
No one had time to move before Bron had performed a tricky manoeuvre in which she had got his gun from his holster and was now pressing it into his side.  
"Don't move!" She snapped, pushing him down to sit opposite her. Tom stared at her. 'I was brought up partly in the SAS barracks for the kids. Or rather the docklands."  
she said to his unanswered question. She glared at the soldier. 'Now who are you?'  
"The question is who are you?" the man swivelled.  
"The names Bron," Bron tucked the gun into her jeans and looked at the man. 'What do you want?'  
"The Captain wants to see you,"  
Bron turned to see a familiar shape in the doorway. She slowly stood and handed the gun back. She quickly pulled on her jacket and nodded. The figure moved off.  
"Your not going out there, are you?" demanded Tom, as the others' slowly approached. 'He'll…'  
"It's an old friend," Bron kissed Tom's cheek and he blushed at the attention. 'Thanks for being naively concerned.'  
And with that she left.

The bitter air chilled him as Captain McNab stood looking out over the Tyne. His dark hair was still cropped and despite being a respectable author and security guard now, the SAS was still deep within his heart.  
"Hey Alex,"  
T he girl he had helped bring up was standing behind him. A good distance away – a rule of the SAS was never to sneak up on someone who served with them. He turned to look at her.  
"Hello Bronwen, or rather should I say Molly… that's the name you went by as a kid," he said, his Peckham accent standing out a mile against Bron's welsh tones.  
"What's it all about?" she replied, and walked forward to receive a hug from the military man. 'How's Jane?'  
"She's fine… she is your aunty," McNab teased, and put his arm around her shoulder. 'I love being a fake security guard to Justin.'  
'And you still lie to Jane," Bron laughed, although his tight was deepened. 'Alex, what's going on? You've never done that to me… sent someone in to get me?'  
"There's trouble in Ireland…"  
"Isn't there always?" Bron replied sarcastically. 'What's happened now?'  
"Serious threats this time…. Ever hear of Sinead O'Brien?"  
"She's one of my best friends, why?" Bron turned, frowning to her godfather. 'Alex.'  
"The threats serious. Her fathers got together with one of our oldest friends…" Alex suckered in some air, to repeat the name without swearing. 'Patrick Mulligan.'  
The name immediately invoked a strangled cry from her throat. 'Paddy?'  
"Yeah, the one and the same." Alex glared at the Tyne. 'He's made a threat against the Tyler's… and you.'  
"Shit," Bron rubbed at her face. 'How's Sinead?'  
"Out of Ireland thankfully, but the troubles are going to start again if intelligence is right," Alex looked at her. 'They plan to hit Scotland. Your concert. Thousands of kids there.'  
"Why're you telling me all this?"  
"So you know what you're dying for," Alex explained slowly.  
"Dying…" Bron clicked. 'Their pulling the concert in Scotland?'  
"Yes," Alex nodded. 'As soon as possible… at this moment your friends will be pulled from the tour. Chris will be joining you in Edinburgh and looking after you. Once Paddy's dead.'  
"Lemme guess. Car accident?'  
"Very good. Well, Ryan's in."  
"I knew Chris would be," Bron sighed. 'He's got that many identities doing, it's hard to keep fucking up.'  
Alex slapped her over the back of the head. 'Don't fucking swear.'  
Bron growled her disapproval, and he laughed gently as she grumbled. 'That's an old joke.'  
"I know," Alex hugged her again. 'I'd advise you wait an hour before you go home. My lads are about to do some irritating.'  
"Do the rest know?" Bron said, pulling the coat tighter around her. 'Or is it on a need to know?'  
"Up to you, not advised though!" He paused, obviously considering. 'If the tour continues without you, then Paddy will know something's majorly wrong. When Chris joins there's no reason to panic him, you're still there.'  
"So basically I'm bait," Bron cocked an eyebrow.  
"I'd much rather the word… temptation," Alex stated, winking.

As she walked down the docklands, Bron felt the unfamiliar fear run up and down her back. She hadn't lived in fear of the Irish Renegade Guards for many years now, and the sudden return made her feel sick.  
For some reason, she wished Tom was here.  
"Bron," Talk of the devil. 'You alright?'  
"Don't tell me you've been wandering the docklands alone?" Bron asked, incredulously.  
"No, well Angy was with me for a bit but then Charl rung saying she was going home with Gwen… that they were being told to leave…" he noted Bron's expression. 'You knew…'  
"The guy I was talking to is my Uncles old Commanding Officer." Bron explained, as she put her hand in his and they began to walk down the docklands. 'He warned me about this trouble that's coming. The girls are safer away from me.'  
"You're staying though?"  
"Yes,"  
They walked in silence, until they came to the familiar front of the Newcastle residence. Big men were moving stuff out and Bron quickly rescued her new leather jacket from one's back who laughed and ruffled her hair.  
"Look Tom, I'll meet you tonight." She pointed down the street. 'Just by the corner.'  
Tom chuckled. 'Meet me on the corner?'  
"Lindisfarne," Bron replied, smiling. 'I'm a local lass. I used to sing it.'  
He bowed to her. 'To my lady of the Tyne I bid you farewell.'  
Bron watched him walk off and she smirked… the smirk vanished when she heard the shouting as she walked into the Newcastle home. She knew what would happen. The girls were being forcibly moved on. Although much to her surprise it was Angy putting up the fight. She dodged past the beret men.  
"OI!" Angharad was running behind the big men who were moving her photography gear. 'Careful those aren't cheap!'  
"Angharad just listen to them," she threw down her keys and walked through the house. 'It's advisable.'  
Angharad scowled, eyes flashing angrily. 'They're messing with my stuff! You know how much my photography gear means to me!'  
"Angharad!" Bron raised her voice slightly. 'It's not worth it! Just listen to them, please.'  
"Fuck you, Bron!" Angharad snarled. 'It's not your stuff. They fucking mean a lot to me!'  
"So does your life." Bron replied, sharper than usual. She ignored Angharad as she walked through to the kitchen. She pushed a frame photograph of her and Alex over as she passed it by.  
"It's my life," Angharad hissed, leaning against the door jamb. Her face was red with fury as she continued. 'Then why am I being forced to leave when you can stay? If my life means so much then allow me the _privilege _of making my _own _choices.'  
"No. You don't even know what's going on!" Bron replied, her anger now simmering down. She put on the kettle, and met Angharad's gaze with almost… too-old eyes. 'I'm staying on for a reason. I refuse to put your life in jeopardy.'  
"Fine! I'm meant to be your best friend, yet you wont tell me what's going on or anything for that matter!" She turned away, her lips bloodless as she choked back angry tears. 'I'll leave quietly, if that's what you want. Just don't expect to see me for a while when this is over," she disappeared around the doorway and Bron sighed bitterly.  
For a moment she considered letting her sulk, until the warning really hit home.  
"ANGY! IT'S THE GUARDS!" Bron shouted, instantly she heard the return of Angharad. 'Angy this isn't a stupid game I'm playing, this is life and death. I don't know if I'm going to win this sodding one. Alex warned me there's a hit out on me and the Tyler's. I'm bloody bait,' Angy opened her mouth. 'Keep it shut, I want to tell you, and I want you to go please. If I get killed it's understandable.'  
"No it isn't," Angharad hissed quietly. 'And fuck you Bron! I know you want to keep us safe but I refuse to be coddled.' She reached over and placed her hand on Bron's forearm. 'I'll leave if you really want me to, because you know the sort of danger we're facing. But it'll be a long time before our friendship heals from this.' She sniffled. 'You need protecting too!'  
Bron sighed, before reaching under the drawer and withdrawing a Walther P99. She tucked it into her trousers, as well as raising her hand to the light. 'See Chris tomorrow then. He'll teach you a bit on shooting. If you stay mind the other two aren't sodding staying. Not on Gods green earth! And this is what the Paddy does,'  
Angy for the first time noted small scars littering Bron's left hand, almost like small paper cuts.  
"I got them while holding a glass in my hand. Outside Newcastle. The guy Chris and Alex are hunting shot it. I was lucky he missed. But he's always wanted my blood since." Bron put her hand down. 'As I warned you this isn't a game. I abstain from violence but in this guy's case I'll make an exception. Julian's staying only out of stubbornness but he's going to have to learn to shoot.'  
Angharad smiled gently. 'Please! Like I'd let those madmen get me, and besides I know you want me to be there.'  
Bron raised her eyebrows before saluting another officer. 'Take me to Corporal Tyler please.'  
"He's ordered that you be picked up early tomorrow!" The soldier saluted before matching off.  
"Who's this corporal."  
"Chris," Bron winked. 'Come on soldier. You want to be a hero… let's see how long you last with him.'

Danny groaned as he realised what his girlfriend had done. The two journalists shared a look as the groaning guitarist rubbed at his eyes.  
"I really can't believe you?!" he said, looking between the two as he pinched at the bridge of his nose. 'Angharad it's dangerous.'  
"It's not that bad. We've got the best in the world looking after us!" Angharad protested. She looked at her boyfriend in surprise as he narrowed his eyes. 'Now Dan.'  
"Bron talk sense to her."  
"Bron talk sense, don't be stupid?!"  
The voice came from the doorway as Julian walked in with two other men. 'I'm Chris.' Said the one. 'This is Jock.'  
Bron smiled delightedly. 'Chris.'  
Chris broke protocol immediately by scooping her up into his arms. Not even the officers could help but smile at this show of affection. It was a well-known fact that despite Bron and Chris's opposite views of the world, that he absolutely adored her and her him.  
"Ok, you can let me go!" Bron laughed, when Chris's strong embrace threatened to break her back.  
"Still ugly then?" Chris commented, eying her up and down to examine her.  
"Still old?" Bron retorted, eyes twinkling behind the glasses.  
Chris grinned at her. 'Come on, behave now. We'd better get you inside before they use your face as a security measure to keep enemies out!'  
"Want me to support you Mr. Tyler? Or would you rather use your rifle as a crutch, you old git?"  
The red headed gentleman joined the group, although he kept Bron in a firm headlock. 'You're going home and that's final.' His accent defined him as from Perth.  
"Piss off you git,"  
"DON'T FUCKING SWEAR!" Alex snapped although he continued to chuckle at his own joke. 'Hey Jules did you know Seventy-five per cent of the SAS are Scottish?'  
"No," Julian sighed, he sensed a joke coming up. 'Any reason…'  
"Because their fucking mental!" roared Chris, before noting Bron's expression. 'Bron, your turning blue.'  
"Well get him off me then!" Bron gave Jock a brutal kick to the leg which somehow released her from his grasp.

Tom looked at Bron's face and grinned. One thing was for sure. It would never be boring while the two 'Enemies' were around.


	11. 11: Daddy dearest's signature card

Ten

Autumn leaves under frozen souls,  
Hungry hands turning soft and old,  
My hero crying as we stood out their in the cold,  
Like these autumn leaves I dont have nothing to hold.  
© Paulo Nutini: Autumn

"Oh Please, The Rutles are brilliant, no scrap that. Hysterical. I mean George Harrison as an interviewer? Genius?"

Richard looked up from reading his paper to find Bronwen sitting opposite Julian – playing a game of chess. Although it seemed Bron was making up rules as she went along, but Julian was constantly correcting her.

"Put my King back Bronwen, and it is hysterical but it isn't that good. Give me a Monty python sketch any day." Julian said, his voice stern yet knowing.

Richard looked between the two with a small smile. Jane had informed him, that Julian was good with Bron and you could see the mutual love between them. His was a fatherly love whilst hers was a respectful hero love.

"I'm telling you Jules, you cannot better… where the bloody hell do I move to now?"

"As long as you don't steal any more of my pieces I don't care," Julian replied, holding out his hand. 'Now cough them up!'

Bronwen reluctantly returned a pawn and knight, 'Not fair. Why are you winning?'

"Because I'm a Lennon, now cough up that Queen. I know that you have them," he didn't remove his hand. She gave it over. 'Good. Now watch.'

"It's boring though!" she groaned. 'Who plays this?'

"Intellectuals." Julian sighed, settling back and looking at his watch. 'Alright it's twelve o'clock. Bed the lot of you.'

The rest all stared at him amazed and horrified. 'You can't be serious.'

"BED!"

Richard watched as each member of the group moved off in their separate directions. He looked at Julian, who returned to his previous writing with a small smile. 'How did you do that?'

"Lennon son, Lennon."

**

Bron listened as she heard the familiar sound of Angharad's giggles and Danny's guffaws. She winced slightly, not liking to imagine what was going on in there. Finally, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overtake her.

The world was grey, and she was back in Neath next to Poundland. Bron stared around her surroundings, before smirking. Neath was the same old ghost town.  
It was sudden noise which made her turn, and she was surrounded by old walls and when she looked up she saw him.  
And her voice just turned into a scream. 

"Bron!"

Bronwen was still screaming when she woke up, although there were arms around her and she felt safe. The familiar smell of Hugo Boss went up her nose and she realised she was being held by Tom. She couldn't stop shaking or crying, no matter how much he soothed.

"Bron?" Julian came in, bleary-eyed although somehow alert. Chris was in close pursuit. 'Bron?'

Tom continued to rub at her back, although he could barely control her tears with soothing. 'She was screaming…'

"Tell us something we don't know," Chris said. He moved over and gently put his hand at the base of Bron's back. This sensation caused Bron to turn and to meet his eyes. 'Was it Paddy?'

"No… it was daddy," Bron began to cry once more, while Chris soothed her. 'Chris can I just go to the café cart… I'll be fine on my own I promise.'

Chris nodded, tentatively watching as she wrapped a robe around herself and heading down the corridor. It wasn't beyond his notice that her first port of call was in the direction of the bathroom. He swore and looked at Julian.

"Typical. I'd bet Paddy's given her the freaks."

"Mm, all the tensions brought up unwanted memories." Julian agreed.

"What did she mean her dad?" Tom asked, looking between the two males. Both turned to look at her.

"He committed suicide when Bron was sixteen," Julian said, slowly. Tom raised an eyebrow. 'It's true! He hung himself in his mother's garage.'

Julian sighed, shaking his head as he heard Bron shutting the door to the bathroom. His feelings were always mixed when his friend was like this. The girl seemed to pull away and hide in an impenetrable shell, sometimes cold and angry, and other times vulnerable and in need. It was a hard one to call at the best of times.

"Look I'll have a word with her," Tom offered. He pulled on a shirt. 'Perhaps a row with me will cheer her up.'

**

Bronwen splashed the cold water hard against her face and looked down into the water gathered in the sink. A cold rage consumed her body as she looked at the rippled reflection. She smashed her hand, hard into the water, grazing her hand against the plug.

"Why the hell did you do it?" She asked aloud. 'I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your stupid actions…'

Her own stupid actions dawned upon her. A bitter taste came to her mouth and she swore before unplugging the water. She watched it swirl and took comfort from that's how her insides felt.

Her own emotions played havoc with her, she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. She tried to remain the girl she had been before all this had happened… but there was the fact that she couldn't. Her friends all helped and Bronwen felt weak, weaker than anything. A newborn babe had more strength than her at times. Emotions withheld fled into dreams of hangings, mocking laughter and occasionally of the dream she had experienced that night… but that was by far the worst one yet.

She hurt people on purpose – she knew that. As if she wanted to see how far she could push them before they turned their backs on her. What she wished to achieve was beyond her. The need to be alone and to be held close conflicted within her, and she could only ask for forgiveness when she returned a semblance of her former self.

"Bron," Tom tapped on the door gently. 'Are you coming on out of there?'

Bronwen prised it open and looked into his face. 'I'm coming.'

"What's wrong?"

"How about I tell you over Brekkie…"

**

The two settled down in the dinner cart, next to the window – they could see the faint glimmers of sunlight flickering through. It was no wonder that they were the only members of the diner cart – excluding the tired waitress and manager. It was only half past six in the morning.

After ordering, and receiving a cup of tea, each sat in silence. Bron studied Tom considering what to say. Tom wasn't about to kick off the conversation. He never did. H just waited; knowing when the brunette wanted to talk she would in her time.

"I had a dream," Bronwen announced, much to Tom's disconcertion as he jumped at the sound of the broad valleys accent. 'It's nowt to brag home to.'

"It'll come back if you don't talk about it Bron," Tom replied gently, sipping at his tea. Dark brown eyes connected with his.

"It was a dream about Dad." Bronwen sighed. 'He committed suicide.' Tom noted the strangulation which came from her voice. 'Hung himself. I dreamt I could see him… it's been ages since I had one of those nightmares.' She shook her head and picked up the tea, looking idly out the window. 'Silly isn't it? He's been gone over a year… nearly 2 years now.'

"That's not the point," Tom muttered, setting down his cup and gently reaching for Bronwen's unmoved left hand. 'Grief doesn't go like everyone says it does… it doesn't disappear.'

"It's supposed to go though," Bronwen watched as the sun broke over the hills, before sighing. 'I'm meant to be so strong.'

"No one can be strong after the loss you've suffered."

Bron looked at Tom in obvious consideration, before shaking her head and sipping at her tea.

"Old head on young shoulders you've got," she said. She looked at him, a smile on her face yet a serious look in her eyes. 'Reckon anyone would notice if I vanished. You know just walked away… and never came back?'

"Bron, you're the loudest person I know, of course they would notice!" Tom grinned before returning to a serious look. 'But if you need time away, you go. I'll make sure the buggers give you the space you need.'

Bronwen smiled gently at her friend's natural assumption. 'I don't need space.' She paused. 'I need noise, I need rock n roll. I nee –' Tom saw her eyes flicker nervously; she was letting the mask down. 'You're not to tell anyone this?'

Tom merely raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea – his look clearly said: 'You should know me better than that!' Bronwen took a ragged breath.

"I'm scared." She looked at her friend, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she admitted the worst thing possible in her opinion. 'There I bloody said it! I'm bloody terrified.' Her voice was rising with anger and raw emotion which had been bottled up. 'And I hate him! And love him! I hate not being in control! I hate not knowing what to do anymore… what am I supposed to do?'

The blonde immediately reached for the brunette, squeezing her hand tight. He ignored the blatant looks of curiosity being sent their way and concentrated on comforting one of his friends. 'Oh Bron…'


	12. 12: I feel my own end

**The reference to birmingham bombings death in 1974, means no disrespect, but is meant to highlight the feeling of foreboding.**

**Could be writing out another character in this bit ;) But it's a 50/50 chance at the moment. Vote and we'll see. **

* * *

Eleven

**_A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes  
as if to hide a lonely tear  
my life will be forever autumn_**

**_© Forever Autumn: From Jeff Wayne's:  
Musical Version of The War of The Worlds._**

When the group got to Glasgow, each went their separate ways. Angy and Dougie went with Jock to take photo's of the city, while Dougie and Harry went to arrange some work for Gwen and Charlotte, where they had settled as journalists for _Dazed and Confused_.

Bron meanwhile sat quietly in the hotel room with Julian, watching the news. The elder man caught her hand when she gasped at the sight of Paddy on the screen. He rubbed fingers across her knuckles, and she suddenly hugged him. He offered the simple support of putting his arm around her, and he heard her breathing hitch as she held back tears.

"The threat on Edinburgh, is imminent the letters have threatened." Bill Turnbull announced, his eyes unusually serious. Julian closed his eyes as he listened to it. 'Police have warned many influential businessmen to stay in.'

"Turn it off," Bron rubbed at her face, as she sat up. Julian continued to rub reassuring fingers over her knuckles. 'Thank God Gwen and Charlotte went home when they did.'

"You should be home too," Julian replied shortly. Bron rolled her eyes at him. 'Don't do that, you know I'm right. Just don't try and be a hero?'

"Why would I do a ridiculous stunt like that?" Bron sighed and scratched at her chin. 'These people scare me Jules. I don't like what they do."

Before Julian could answer her, Tom came in and flung himself next to Bron who pushed him off her lightly. Julian chuckled, watching the two. Despite the two's antagonism towards each other, the underlying affection won everyone over.

"What do you want?" Bron enquired, studying the blonde with a frown.

He pursed his lips petulantly. 'Sarah dumped me.'

"Poor her, I'm sure," Bron replied. 'Perhaps I should write her a letter of congratulations.'

Tom punched her shoulder softly, and Bron murmured a disagreement. 'God I'm so alone.'

"Poor you," Bronwen sighed, before glancing at Julian. 'When are we allowed out?'

"You'd have to ask Chris," Julian sighed, before standing. 'Want a coffee or something?'

"Ask for an Eton mess." Bron pressed her head into Tom's shoulder. 'I need something sweet.'

"Sure thing," Julian ruffled her hair fondly as he passed her by. 'Stay here.'

"I will," Bron crossed her legs in thought. Tom looked down at her, before gently kissing her head. 'What was that for?'

"You looked worried," he replied.

"I'm more worried now," Bron teased. She looked out of the window, quietly counting in her mind. He grinned at her. 'Why are people so stupid, that they want to kill others Tom?'

The smile vanished. 'I don't know. I don't want to know,'

Bron smirked. 'That's what I was afraid of.'

**

The Eton Mess provided little comfort, although all of the team had one after Bron ate hers. Soon, all were retreating to bed, apart from Jock who took watch downstairs near the bar. Bron sat in the bedroom, not allowing sleep to take her. Tom could see her from where he was sitting, watching 'War of The Worlds' on telly. He put it off to walk into her room.

"Stopped watching that crap then?" Bronwen didn't even look up, as she turned off her I-Pod. 'Jeff Wayne's musical's better.'

"Now why do you say that?" Tom sat with her, although she still didn't meet his eyes.

"Because it's got Richard Burton as the journalist for starters," Bron scoffed. She turned slightly, and inclined her head to look at him. 'What do you want?'

"You looked like your going to the gallows, why?" Tom asked, studying her.

"Bad feeling is all," Bron kicked off her boots. 'I've been in these situations before. Spent too long in these situations, cos of my uncle and his friends…' she rubbed at her eyes. 'I thought I'd escaped these moments.'

Tom looked at her, before opening his mouth and closing it. It would do him no favours he knew that, as she lay back on the bed, chewing on her lips. She looked so concerned, that he realised he was staring into Chris's face at that moment.

"I was listening to the Richard Burton version funnily enough just now," Bron told him, breaking his trail of thought. 'Have a listen, it's hauntingly good.'

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, as he picked up the small purple I-Pod. 'I mean, I know you….'

"I'll nick Dougie's," Bronwen assured him. 'Go on hop off to bed now. Big day of waiting around tomorrow.'

The rest of night proved to be silent… although the trepidation for the following day played on all their dreams.

*

The following morning, Julian felt a grin cross his features as he dived into the swimming pool. The Menzie's hotel, Glasgow was one of those places that Julian loved, because of the pool. He swam a few lengths, breathing evenly. He watched as a familiar pair of feet walked down the length of the pool, towards where he had asked the staff to set up breakfast.

"Morning Jules," Angharad said, as she passed by to get breakfast. 'How are you?'

"I'm fine," Julian said, swimming to the side of the pool. 'Pass me a towel will you?'

Angharad threw a towel at him, and he wrapped it around himself as he walked up to her. 'Why are we here?'

"Because I wanted to remind you Miss Locke your not to wander off." Julian said, warningly. 'The Guards bares no prisoners, and despite you and Bron being taff's they can justify their actions. You're to stay close to the soldiers.'

"Why isn't Bron having this speech?" Angharad replied, raising a cool eyebrow. 'She's the wicked sod.'

"Bron's seen the Guards first hand." Julian explained, rolling his eyes. 'She's not that stupid.'

At that moment, Bron stepped out of the shower, towelling off her hair and wiping her body down from it.

_It beat's life on the road. _

The phone ringing interrupted her peaceful daydream. She sighed and walked through, not bothering to clothe herself. After all what was the point? She was on her own?

Bronwen scooped up the phone. 'Hello, Bronwen here, lady of journalism.'

"Hello limey?" the voice belonged to Jo. Bron laughed. 'Hey there sweetcheeks, how's the story coming along?'

"Brilliant, pity about the concert though tonight," Bron sighed, slipping on her underwear and jeans tucking the phone into the crook of her neck. 'Bloody bombs.'

"I know sweetheart," Jo said reassuringly. 'Look, Sir Paul's supposed to be staying in The Radley, he's expecting you.'

"Ok," Bron scribbled down a hasty note. 'Look, don't tell Angy or Jules about this. They're really worried about this threat.'

"Who isn't?"

"Look Jo I'll ring you tonight with any news I garner," Bron replied, tucking the paper into her jeans. 'See you.'

As she put the phone down, the door opened and Tom entered. He froze on seeing the topless teenager. He spun around.

"Hey," she pulled the towel around herself and smiled. 'What can I do you for?'

"Um, have you got a newspaper?"

"Tom I'm just going out. There's a paper under the bed," she said, winking as she dressed. 'Don't wait up!'

"Bron you heard Chris…"

"Look mate," Bron smirked at him as she pulled her t-shirt on. 'I've got as much chance as being shot out there as I have here… the boys' have got all the major hotels checked on and we're fine. I just want to get out of here.'

"Fair enough," Tom admitted. 'Bron…' she stopped to look at him. 'Come back in one piece huh?'

"I'll do my level best," Bron promised.

As it turned out, it was just another peaceful day in the city. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, children ran and played in the parks. The machinery of civilization ground onwards. But all was not as peaceful as it seemed.

***

Bronwen was walking up to the Radley hotel, brushing her dark brown hair behind her ears. For some reason, she had a nervous skip, although she'd met Sir Paul before, through her previous trip to Paris. Yet her nervousness stemmed from her own belief that she wasnt going to make it through the day.

It was often said, that the Tyler family, as the assumed name went, had the gift of sight. This meant they often had a feeling when they knew they were going to die. Her Uncle Dom had had it, the day he had died in action, her Aunty Maggie who had been killed by the bombings in Birmingham, as a Seventeen year old student. The first and last of the Tyler's first brood to go to university. Her boyfriend had committed suicide 2 days after Maggie's passing, and the two were buried together in Newcastle. Bron shook her head. Part of the reason she didnt believe in love was because of that story. Bron's own body had felt her fathers passing.

But the sense of death which clung to her now, did nothing.

"Morning," Bron announced, as she put her backpack next to the receptionist, the Scottish girl smiled at her. 'I'm Bronwen John. I'm here to interview Sir Paul?'

"Sir Paul's still resting, if you wait a minute," the girl pointed to some seats. 'I'll call him down.'

"Tell him not to rush," Bron said, raising her hand. 'I'm in no hurry.'

For some reason, she noted that a skinny lad in a black t-shirt was rushing out. She sighed, and shrugged. Some people would be late in the next life, that's what her mother had told her. Yet suddenly she noticed the bag he'd left behind. Blind panic took over her as her Uncles' vivid descriptions flickered through her mind – she span to see the outside with a van, the boy was clambering in.

"Oh shit!" she muttered, before running to the concierge. She quickly snatched the tannoy thing off him. 'PEOPLE GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS. POSSIBLE BOMB…'

Her sentence immediately drew people from the blast area. She sighed in relief and glanced at her watch. 11.43. She smirked as she caught hold of her backpack and threw it over the table.

"HEY KID!" She turned to see an SAS soldier, complete with balaclava, standing in the doorway. She waved at him and began to walk over. 'Get away from the bag.'

Bron did so yet slowly. She had time, she knew that. That was until she spotted the fact that the bomb was so close to the nursery.

At 11.44 she decided her fate, by rushing to the nursery and managing to slam the doors shut. With this decision, she hid the children within, behind the heavy steel doors.

By 11.44 and 30 seconds she had begun to run, although time by now she knew was not on her side.

At 11.44 and 59 seconds she was 2 metres from any covering, and she was mid leap.

The bomb ripped through the hotel at dead on 11.45

**

"The bombing isn't a shock to the city of Glasgow, due to the earlier threats,"

Angy watched the news, arms folded across her chest. She silently thanked god that both Charlotte and Gwen had headed to London. Julian put his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed it.

"I haven't seen this since the Manchester bombings and Thatcherite Britain," he said, as he watched the news. 'Thank the lord you lot cancelled the concert.'

"Did you get hold of your Uncle Paul?" Tom asked, looking across at him from his seat by the pool.

"Yeah, he's fine. Some Taffy managed to shout into the mike not to go near the windows." Julian replied, grinning with relief.

At that moment, Dougie came in, muttering about something or other, all the while shooting angry glances at Julian.

"Ok, what's wrong with you?!" Danny asked, laughing gently at this particular sight. 'We've just watched the biggest bombing in Glasgow for years!'

"Bloody Bron, she's got me I-Pod," Dougie looked at the screen. Julian's eyes narrowed as Tom coughed.

"Where is she?" he growled, his face contorting with anger. 'She would've been down by now?'

Angy suddenly uttered a small scream.

"What is it?" Danny laughed.

Everyone fell silent as their eyes connected with the television screen.

There on screen was the slumped body of Bron, eyes closed as the camera zoomed in on the injured…. And the dying.


	13. Chapter 13: In a coma

Twelve

Girlfriend in a coma, I know, I know, it's serious,  
Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, baby godbye.  
There were times when I could have strangled her,  
But you know I would hate anything to happen to her.  
Would you please let me see her.

(C) The Smiths: Girlfriend in a coma

It was dark.

Bronwen woke up in the lobby. The area was light but not completely light. A light was flickering from the ceiling. The air was hot and dense. She was having trouble breathing and she noticed that her sunglasses were broken.

She eventually sat up on her knee and saw the horror that was in front of her. The lobby was filled with everyone that was present during the bombing…but they were nearly all injured. Puddles of blood stained the floor. Weeping bodies were spread amongst the room, as if they were pushed aside. Finally the SAS man came in through what was left of the interior.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Bron could only stare.

The sound of thunder.

The sight of fire.

The smell of fear.

The feel of the black snow, raining down upon the survivors, weeping.

"Can you move?" The man was shouting.

Could she move? Yes, she could feel her legs. Suddenly someone's arms were lifting her and she could stand up. She turned to be met with the familiar eyes of Andy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he shouted, obviously recognising she was (for the moment) deaf.

"I was getting ready to interview!" Bron replied, tears trickling down her cheeks. 'What happened?'

"The bloody bomb, now come on," he ordered. 'Stand up.'

Bron struggled to get her bearings, but he lifted her and carried her downstairs, to the outside world. The nursery children had been rescued, she could see them with grateful parents. People were wounded. She was still half-deaf.

"Only one died Bronwen!" Jock was congratulating but she couldn't really hear. 'And that was one of those bastards!'

She was bleeding, she knew that but for the life in her couldn't focus where from. A sharp pain from her shoulder-tip down was making her woozy. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.

"Bronwen?" Chris questioned. A soft moan was offered in response. 'Bronwen! I need you to stay awake sweetheart.'

Bronwen moaned again when her Uncle put a compress on her brow. His expertt hands found the wound and he instantly panicked. Blood was trickling in a steady stream for the 3 inch wound. The shrapnel was still inside thankfully – keeping the wound from leaking anymore than it had to.

"No better, is she?" Jock asked, looking closely at the journalist with concern and a little trepidation. He flicked open his lighter. Jock always did that when he was nervous. Smoke away his life. If the bullets didn't get him, cancer would in his opinion. "Did you take out an indemnity on her, Andy?'

Andy shook his head, the weariness of the situation starting to get to him.

"The kid's sick," he replied. "And you're just making bad jokes about it."

"And the cigarette's not helping, either," said Chris with a withering look. 'She's got a ruptured spleen… and she's bleeding to death, now HURRY!"

In the Hospital Corridor, two big men sat. Two big soldiers, two too old for this world at times, yet watching like eagles as their Eaglet suffered. The television blared out news to the wakefulness.

"It has been reported, that several people were injured in the explosion this afternoon, one man was pronounced dead on the scene."

Chris sat back as he sat with Andy on the outside of the ward. Jock had left after punching through one of the glass windows in between Bron and the doctors, and the three men.

The two old SAS men, both weather-beaten and older were obviously considering the child's condition. She was at this moment wired up to machinery and the beeping was becoming more of a concern than the previous reassurance. The Doctor's were still with her, and were still shaking their heads.

"She started bleeding abdominally, as well as the spleen injury. She slipped into a coma," Chris explained suddenly, when Jane came in. 'They had to use the defibrillators because her heart stopped for a few seconds.'

On being informed, Jane had immediately flown up, although had quietly managed to get hold of many journalists – asking them not to publish Bronwen's name. If it was one thing Jen didn't need was other people feeding her panic. Jen was at this moment under sedation in Newcastle General, unable to calm herself.

Chris's elder sister however wasn't paying attention to them, and quietly put her arm around Angharad as she too entered.

"Hey," she cuddled the eighteen year old two her, when she began to cry. 'Bron will be fine...wont she Chris?'

Chris offered a terse nod, although a smile didn't alight his face.

**

Angy stood outside the hospital ward, pacing nervously. Jane and Andy had vanished into thin air, in a cloud of white suits and blue nurses' outfits.

"Hey," she was disturbed from her thoughts by Tom. 'What're you still doing here?'

"Waiting," she muttered, rooting through her pocket for a cigarette. She popped it into her mouth, but left it unlit as if the mere presence of her addiction was enough to soothe her nerves. "You?"

"Came to check on her for Jules," Tom replied, leaning on the wall. 'He's with the boys now. He hates hospitals… you know what with his dad…'

Angy nodded, pointedly ignoring the dirty looks she was receiving from the nurses passing. Curling her fingers around the cigarette she pulled it from her lips and gestured vaguely to the exit.

"Fancy coming for a smoke for a few mins?" she asked. Tom's lips flickered in a small smile before he nodded.

The two made their way down the old gardening area of the hospital. It was surprising how tranquil the place appeared – even in the heart of Glasgow. Tom settled on a bench, while Angharad stood, now lighting her cigarette and suckering in the toxic fumes. She smiled with satisfaction slowly.

"Angy," she suddenly realised she hadn't been paying the guitarist any mind. 'What operation did she have?'

"Removal of the spleen," she said bluntly, drawing in the bitter smoke and letting it burn the back of her throat before she released it to the frigid air. Tom choked, and she reached out to carefully pat his back, sympathy overwhelming her. She knew how deep Tom's feelings for Bron were, even if Bron herself didn't, and she knew how hard it was to hear that the person you cared about was critically ill. "There was an explosion, and the daft bugger was too stubborn to leave… saved some kids lives..."

"Why didn't she just stay where she was!" Tom snapped, feeling his rage develop. 'Why couldn't she just quit while she was ahead, she told us to stay put! Why didn't she listen to me?'

Angy shrugged. "Like I said she was too stubborn and she got hurt because of it." She pulled on her cigarette briefly and leant back against the rough brick wall, feeling it scratch through the thick wool of her coat.

"What about this journalism??" Tom looked at her. Angy didn't meet his gaze. 'It's her life. And yours… what with…'

"The road isn't for us anymore." She gave a tiny smile and Tom could see sadness fill her eyes. "It's something we both loved, but with Bron like she is, it isn't an option." She turned away, ducking her head so that her hair hid her face from view. "You can go in and see her now if you like. I'll only be a few minutes more."

Tom squeezed her shoulder as he realised the teenager was crying.

When he entered the ward he was horrified to hear the familiar beeping of the machines. Bron was lying wired up to every machine possible. Sitting next to her was Jane and Chris. Jane was smoothing her hand over Bron's, Tom twitched at the sight of tears actually dripping down her cheeks.

"Tom," Jane said, standing to give the young man a hug.

"I know," he whispered, before moving over to her. 'I'm right here with you kid, hear me?' He turned to Chris. 'How is she?'

"Not good. She bled badly in the operating theatre. Some complications arose…" Chris shrugged. Tom was surprised to note that he had the same eyes as Bron – despite the blueness. 'We can only pray…'

Tom nodded and sat on the edge of her bed. He stroked the side of her face slowly and Jane gently nudged Chris so he could be alone with her. Chris glanced at her horrified, before her glare made his concern subside.

Jane smiled gently. 'I might go to the chaplain- maybe he'll know what happens if she d-' she stopped dead, afraid to say the words. She got up and squeezed Tom's shoulder in passing before leaving the room.

Tom stood beside Bron. 'Hey Bron,' he said carefully. 'They wouldn't let me stay earlier but I came back- Gwen and Charlotte rung to say hey…' he paused. The response was merely beeps. 'Hey, you can't do this, lot of people are counting on you, Angharad, Gwen, us, your mother… even Jane.'

He got up to distance himself from the girl who lay in bed. 'You can't go yet- you've got a life ahead of you… you didn't even make that big story you wanted - they need you.' He paused and walked back over. 'I need you.' He looked down, and gently held the pale hand in his own. 'You're… wonderful. I know I never told you that, but I'm telling you now. 'You're the love of my life. I know we never got on, but that's part of the reason I love you. You don't let me win.'

He stopped, before looking up at the ceiling, and tapping at the side of her bed. 'Hey sir?? Could I have a word? It's my friend, and she's in bad shape- and I know you, you know… Well the worlds pretty whacko down here- and she's the light of day. You need her down here- people like her… and,' Tom begun to swallow back sobs. 'And if you don't I do! I can fix a lot of things, but this one is yours…' He began to sob. 'Let's make us a deal… you do this for me and I'll owe you one…'

**

When the next morning came Tom was still asleep in the room, resting on the hospital chairs.

"Tom?" Harry shook him awake, frowning. Tom swatted him off. 'Tom. What're you doing here mate?'

"I fell asleep, but the nurses said it's ok," he sat up, and stroked Bron's hand. The beeping had stopped. 'What's?'

"She's fine Tom, she's been allowed off of life support, look I'm going to get a coffee….'

Harry left the two alone, and Tom run his fingers across hers with a smile. It wasn't until a few moments later, he realised that her eyes were flittering open and she began to cough.

"Chris," he realised his dirty blond hair was being mistaken for Chris's own. 'I had this weird dream. Tom was holding my hand and being nice… and he said he loved me… but I couldn't tell him anything back.' Tom leant over her.

"So you _do _like me?" he said, smiling.

Bron scowled. 'Piss off. It's the drugs….'

"No it's not," Tom grinned. 'How about a meal out?'

Bron scowled again. 'How easy do you think I am?'

"Born with your legs parted?" That earned him a feeble slap across the arm. 'Sorry I couldn't resist.'

"Try?" Bron suggested weakly. She reached up to touch his face, and he caught her hand in hers. 'Just wanted to make sure you were real.'

"Why would I be?" Tom smiled, noticing that Bron was drifting slowly back to sleep.

"Dad wasn't." Bron whispered. Tom gently reached over and held her hand. She gripped it gently. 'Thank you…'


	14. Chapter 14: Look back in anger

Sorry, it took so long to put this up!

A special thanks to Angy, and Jane who helped me out with this chapter!

Also sorry again for the reference to the Birmingham bombings.

* * *

Thirteen

I'm gonna start the revolution from my bed  
'Cos you said the Brains I had went to my head  
Step outside cos summertime's in bloom  
Stand up beside the fireplace  
Take that look from off your face  
Cos you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out

(C) Oasis: Dont look back in anger

Bron was sitting up in the hospital bed, reading 'Rolling Stone' when Angharad came in. 'Hey there snapper,' she grinned winningly. 'How are you and what brings you to the recesses of the spleen-less ward?'

Angy snorted and plopped down into one of the hard backed chairs placed by Bron's bedside. "I was bored," she answered lazily. She smirked wickedly, "And you're so much fun to tease when you can't fight back."

"Piss off… fuck," Bron gestured to one bunch of flowers. 'Darling Sylvia. I feel like I'm in a funeral home… talking of which did you hear that The Unseen Dead are coming to Wales?'

"No," Angy picked up the bunch of flowers, bright and over-colourful, and sniffed them gently. She sneezed almost immediately. "Christ, I think she sprayed these with her perfume before she gave them to you." Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she dropped them to the floor, trampling the petals with her boots. Satisfied, she sat back. "They reek."

Bron just cocked her eyebrow. 'How do you feel about the Unseen Dead then… should be up on my feet then… back on the road.'

Bron frowned when Angy suddenly refused to meet her eyes and the grin that had been plastered to her face disappeared. "Angy?"

Angy sighed and ran a hand through her hair, ruffling the short tufts at the back, a nervous gesture she had picked up in the years that Bron had known her. It caused a ball of dread to sit heavy and cold in her stomach.

"Thing is Bron…there won't be anymore 'us on the road'" Angy blinked back tears. "That part of our life is over."

Bron scowled. 'No. I refuse. I haven't travelled with anyone yet. I haven't done Dylan. I haven't done The Rolling Stones…" _I haven't been like Jane. _

Angy shrugged helplessly. "You were too badly hurt in the explosion. There's no way you can travel in your condition anymore, it's too dangerous. You heard what the doctors said."

"Penicillin twice a day for the rest of my life. The possibility that I may kill any child I carry in my womb because my immune system is fucked." Bron growled. 'I heard it. I just…' her voice broke, but she swallowed and continued. 'I want my tour. I want my life. I don't want to be a bloody invalid!'

"You won't be an invalid," Angy soothed, plucking at the bland sheet that covered Bron's legs. "You'll be able to do most of what you could before. It just means not doing heavy duty touring anymore. It's a small price to pay for your health, you know." Angy swallowed roughly and her voice was hoarse as she whispered, "You could have died."

"Better than being here," Bron pelted rolling stone across the room, and settled into her pillow. 'You don't know what it's like. You're a snapper. You can just find another journo. And be right back on the road!'

Angy scowled, eyes flashing with something Bronwen couldn't quite decipher. "You know I wouldn't do that! You and me travel together, end of story. If you don't travel then neither do I!"

Bron didn't turn to give her next reply. 'Just go away… you carry on travelling. I'll just be an invalid. Go to your boyfriend, and just let me weep with joy every morning with the fact I'm never going to travel again!'

Bronwen turned now to look at her friend when the silence lingered on. She felt a flush of shame at her whining when she found her friend glowering anger, her mouth a thin bloodless line. Her eyes were slits and Bron knew she was seeing Angy at her angriest.

"Get over yourself, Bronwen John!" she hissed, fingers tightening around the arm of the chair. 'People have lost limbs and gotten on with their lives! So you cant travel! If you're willing to give up and sob when you can still write, your _passion_, then you don't deserve to be a journalist!'

"You have no idea what's going on in my head!" Bron snapped. 'I cant do what I loved doing anymore! I loved feeling the road beneath my boots but I don't see the point.' She turned away once more, her pillow smothering her hitched breath. 'Now why don't you fuck off… I don't need to be reminded of the past by you.'

"Fuck you!" Angharad roared back. 'Fuck you for being an ungrateful bitch who cant see that got away with her life by the skin of her teeth! Fuck you because you could've lost everything! And fuck you, Bronwen John, if you're going to treat me like this then you can bloody well find yourself a new photographer!" Angy stormed from the room, back rigid with fury.

"Angy!" Bron called… but even she realised it was too late.

**

Sitting in a cafe. Sipping down steamy coffee. Listening to sad songs. Typing furiously away, Jane felt right at home as she read up Bron's shorthand notes and finished writing her article.

_Kid's got talent. _Jane begrudgingly admitted. She heard a familiar voice call her name, and she frowned. The voice was Angharad's but as of yet Jane felt no inclination to turn.

"Jane?" the 49 year old looked up and quirked her eyebrow at Angharad. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. 'I think I've lost Bron…'

Jane listened to the tale, tutting in the appropriate parts and rolling her eyes at Bron's stupidity. By the time they finished, Jane's coffee was cold and Angharad's was lukewarm.

"So, my niece is still being a brat?" Jane sipped at the cold coffee with a frown.

"Yes," Angharad said shortly, sipping from her coffee then grimacing at the taste.

"Look," Jane pointed out the window at the rain. 'See that? That's what Bron see's with this. She's a pessimist anyway, but…' She shrugged. 'I don't know.'

For a few moments there was an abject silence – Angy carefully noted that Jane had a ring on her finger, with the initials MVT on it.

"Was MVT Maggie, your sister?"

Jane's cup dropped from her hands in absolute horror, and shock at the name she hadn't heard in so long.

"It was Margaret Vivian Tyler. How do you know about her?" Jane snapped.

"I have my sources," Angharad replied, ignoring the vicious scowl that darkened Jane's features. "The point is that I know about her."

"Well you shouldn't," Jane grimaced. 'She was my sister.'

"She may have been your sister, but she deserves to be remembered by all." Angharad gave Jane a stern look that had the older woman raising an eyebrow defiantly. "And you should know that of all people."

"I take it you know how she was killed? In the bombings in Birmingham," Jane raised her eyebrow at Angharad's nod. 'Chris told you then. Anyway, he probably didn't tell you that her boyfriend committed suicide 2 days after her funeral. They're buried together.'

"I know," Angharad stared into the murky swirl of her coffee before pushing it away. "I may not be a journo like Bron, but I still know how to dig up information on somebody."

"Congratulations," Jane replied snidely. 'Maggie died. Bron's lost her spleen. Do you want any more info?' Jane span away. 'She shouldn't have been out like Maggie,'

"Yes, course you've suffered! Who bloody well hasn't in your family?!" Angharad pushed back her chair and stood, her face a picture of disgust and frustration. " We've all suffered, but what you and Bron don't seem to get is that people move on. It hurts yes, of course it fucking hurts, but I'm sick of you two whining."

She turned on her heel. "You and Bron are so much alike sometimes that it sickens me. You're like carbon copies."

"Angy," Angharad paused and looked at Jane. She was smirking – something Angharad always remembered Bron couldn't do of Jane's actions. 'That my dear snapper proves you're a good friend.'

Angharad raised an eyebrow. "How so?" Confusion warmed her insides as she locked eyes with Jane. She'd just insulted their whole family, and Jane was congratulating her for being a good friend?

"No one would let me take them down, and just insult my family," Jane finished off her coffee. 'They'd normally have walked out five minutes into my whining. You stayed.'

"I stayed because I feel everyone should have a chance to talk. When it gets to whining… I just cant hold my temper.'

Jane nodded sympathetically. 'I know what you mean. Do you want me to have a word with Bron?'

"Please,"

Jane smirked as she stood and pulled on her familiar black leather jacket. Angharad was struck on how much Bron's determination was reflected in Jane's narrow face, but she quickly rubbed that thought away.

"Angharad," she said suddenly. 'Don't try and please everyone. It doesn't work.'

"What makes you think I'm trying to please everyone?"

"I did it once," Jane grimaced at both the memory and the thought. 'Once was enough.'

Angharad smiled and snatched up her coat. 'Why, am I not surprised that pleasing people isn't your thing?' Her tone was teasing and Jane could see it for the change of subject that it was.

"Alright then, follow me you smart-arse cow."

**

Bron sighed as she sat in bed, fingering the piece of paper between her fingers. The Nurse had brought it to her earlier, although Bron knew already what it was. She'd ordered the nurses to ignore any phone calls from Jann, and she threw the paper down.

"Hey," she heard Jane come in. 'You alright?'

"Seeing as I can't tour anymore I'm brilliant and loved." Bron said sarcastically. 'You?'

"Sick of being treated like shit, by sanctimonious little nieces who should be grateful they kept their fucking lives in that explosion and are instead moping about the fact that they aren't being allowed to tour AS much anymore!" Jane snapped, running her fingers through her hair. 'You should be grateful your even here to tell the tale!'

Bron scowled, it was rare she went against Jane, and in her mindset she was definitely not starting a row. 'I've been offered a job… not travelling.'

"Tidy. Where?" Jane asked, she sat on the edge of the bed. Bron offered her the piece of paper. She read over it a moment. 'Jann Wenner's setting up a magazine in London?'

"Mm, its called Curtis Lee… sort of not-quite mainstream stuff." Bron explained. She settled back. 'I've been offered the job as editor.'

Jane looked at her niece with a frown. A couple of weeks back, she would've been screaming with joy – but now she was silent and almost redolent with self-pity.  
"And…"

"I don't know what to do…" Bron sighed. 'When I was in New York, while Angy was off with some bloke, I went to see Jann, Jann offered me the job but I turned it down. Now I can't travel and it feels like he's just sprung me for that reason.'

Jane laughed gently. 'Jann would never do that. He respects and loves you too much. You're a journo with a heart. He wouldn't just let you run wild… I suppose he thinks of you as a protégé like me.'

"Bull shit," Jane grinned at her niece's derogatory term. 'There's no fun in editing.'

"Bronwen, remember I told you I could've been the editor for NME…." Bron quirked an eyebrow. Of course she'd heard it. It was one of Jane's favourite anecdotes and stories.

"Yeah, it was the best decision you've…"

"No it was the worst." Jane sighed. 'Bron… most people get on and go up. That's you. I should've grown up then. But did I? No. Now I'm an older mother whose probably** just** going to see her daughter turn 21. I was lonely for so long, now I've got everything I should've had about your age… you've got a very different attitude to me.'

"Yeah but…"

"No buts'… life isn't built on buts. It's built on deeds," Jane smirked. 'I'll tell Jann you'll ring him tomorrow and apologise to Angharad. She's outside.'

**

When Angharad walked into the room, she found Bronwen already in her jeans and t-shirt.

"I'm going out for a bit, the nurses said it's alright," Bron explained, on seeing Angy's confused look. 'I'm not totally dumb.'

"You could've fooled me," Angy replied, although there was no sharpness in her tone. Bron smirked. 'Feeling better?'

Bron gave a small hint of a smile, but it vanquished quickly. 'I'm sorry.' Angy nodded, knowing those two words were always difficult for Bron to say, especially when she felt justified. 'And you've got a job in Curtis Lee.'

Angy nodded, and Bron felt bile rise in her throat. 'Ok, my own office?'

"Naturally," Bron replied, smiling in relief. 'Means relocating down to London?'

"I like London," Angharad replied. 'What about university? I mean we're meant to be going to there next year?!'

"The University Arts, London has already offered you a position…" Bron smiled. 'Sandwich course; my course is based between New York and London.'

"Lucky cow… what about this tour?" Angy turned to her, slowly. 'Are we…'

"Finishing?" Bron bit out a short laugh. 'Yes. Chris and Al still need us…' she rubbed her side subconsciously. 'And I **want** Paddy.'


	15. 15: Irish Eyes

Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Features Dinger! Sorry about the constant arguing between Bron & angy at this moment. :(

* * *

Fourteen

In Dublin  
At the quays friends come and say farewell  
We'd laugh and joke and smoke

© Dublin: Thin Lizzy

Dublin was one of those cities which filled you with anticipation. Angy smiled as she caught Danny's hand and dragged him across Dublin Streets, him laughing as they ran along. Bron walked behind with Chris, both talking in hushed tones.

"I hate Ireland," Chris commented as he walked. 'Why I'm still here is beyond me.'

"It's because we love and adore you," Bron responded, as he slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He laughed incredulously. 'So, where's Dinger?'

"What the hell's a dinger?" mocked Tom.

"I'm a dinger,"

Turning around, Tom was met by a pair of large biceps and chest. Tipping his head slightly his eyes connected with a pair of dark, mischievous eyes.

"Everyone I'd like you to meet Ian Prynne," introduced Chris, as each member of the group stopped to meet him. 'Or as everyone calls him Dinger. He'll be swopping over from Jock.'

"Alright?" he asked, before swooping Bron up and putting her over his knee. He gave her arse a resounding slap before righting her. 'And you madam Spleen are in the shit. I had a bet riding with Stan that you would lose your spleen but not before the age of 21. Well that's down the toilet.'

Bron pursed her lips, before walking over to Chris, who was laughing gregariously with Angharad. 'Fuck you.'

Dinger merely rolled his eyes, and began to walk with the group.

The day was going well, Bron hadn't argued with Tom once – being too preoccupied in keeping Dinger at bay from his relentless teasing. Angy just talked to Tom and Danny. Harry was getting his rings ready for his impending wedding while Dougie (god Bless him) was ringing his girlfriend all the time.

Naturally when things were on a natural high – they had to come down with a loud bang.

"Did you know that Saddam Hussein is an anagram of Hes a sad nudist?" remarked Dinger to Chris as he walked along to the Temple Bar.

"Where did the M go?" Chris asked, cocking his eyebrow

"I swapped it for a T." Dinger said, smiling.

"You can't do that!" Bron snapped, every literary sensation thriving in her bones.

"Well I just did." Dinger laughed.

"That's not right," Bronwen said half to herself, stomping inside the Temple Bar. 'Oh Christ.'

"What is," Angharad said, racing in with Danny only to stop dead. 'Uh-oh'

The entire A level History department and the English Language and literature department pupils, with their tutors Tudor, Jane and Gareth were standing in there, drinking beers. Most unlike what their application forms had announced.

"Bronwen! Angharad!" Jane greeted the two English students enthusiastically, not noticing the pure looks of disappointment on their faces. 'You've found us on our Minhinnick excursion as well as the History departments O'Connell.'

Angy paled slightly at the sight of her tutor Gareth who was approaching. 'So Miss Locke? I thought you were…'

"Step away from the journalist sir, before I make you," Chris's deep voice had changed dramatically from it's usual gentle tones to a gruff no-nonsense soldiers. 'We are on a recon here, and my niece, Bronwen and her dear friend Angharad,' He flashed an affectionate half smile in their direction, 'are meeting an operative. And if you so much as speak to her, I will take your testes, punch them up through your throat, drag it out and then feed it to you for breakfast. Get it?'

Gareth stared at Angharad, before backing off and heading into the bar area. Angy glanced at Chris. 'How-'

"Bron told me," Chris's familiar tone returned, and didn't hide his mirth. 'Me and Bron do talk you know.'

"I heard about you reporting how-" Jane Friese broke off, finally noticing Bron had run over to greet someone. 'Oh?'

From the doorway, Tom glared while Dinger wolf whistled. Bron was being hugged by a tall young man who was wearing a beanie cap. The male, who was slightly bucktoothed, was laughing as he hugged her.

"Who is that?" he spat out, looking at Angharad with a jealous gleam.

Angy looked over Danny's shoulder and smiled. 'It's just Ryan. Bron and him are mates.'

"Looks more than mates," Tom said sulkily.

"Tom," Dinger said as he picked up a pint of Guinness. 'Keep your mouth shut.'

After an hour of talking to Ryan, Bron returned to the group in the booth, plonking herself by Angy. Tom looked jealously on, as he watched Ryan came back over.

"Hey Bron," Ryan smiled at her winningly. 'Are you coming out tonight to the Crawdaddy club?'

"Maybe," Bron smirked, as she picked up her cointreau and lemonade as well as handing Angy her Cosmopolitan. 'What you think Angy?'

"Not sure." Angy sipped at the Cosmopolitan. 'Isn't Paddy meant to be on home ground?'

"We're in Ireland, there's loads of Paddy's around," Bron remarked sarcastically. 'Look Paddy won't bother us.'

"Yeah I'm sure," Angy said, sarcastically. She stared at Bron who was looking at Tom – almost hopefully. She shook her head, it was definitely an ulterior motive in going to the club – just to get Tom annoyed. 'Look Bron.'

"There's a band there," Ryan interjected, his eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. 'The Dachau Angels?'

Both Angy and Bron shared a look. The Dachau Angels were the only band on the Underground Circuit that allowed them to have free drinks in their gigs. The appeal of free booze was overwhelming.

"Chris?" Bron turned to see her Uncle and Dinger sitting drinking their still half-full first pints. Chris turned inquisitively. 'Can we go tonight?'

Chris bit his lip in consideration. '8 o'clock.'

"Gig starts at 8!" Ryan protested, although the last word of 'eight' came out as a whimper as both ex-SAS men turned their full angry gazes on him.

"9 then," Danny said helpfully.

"10," Bron's voice brooked no denial, and Chris gave a nod as an affirmative. 'Oh good. Tom, do me a favour.'

"Fuck off," Tom stood and stormed off, while Bron sat looking hurt and bemused. 'And don't fucking talk to me.'

Bron looked to Angy in surprise. 'What's wrong with him?'

"Just that a certain person is being a bit of a twat." Angy smiled, full of teeth and there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. 'That's all.'

Later in the hotel, Chris and Dinger were busily checking their radio equipment, while Alex was phoning all the bases to maintain high alert. Dougie was getting ready to drop the girls off – while Tom busily showered. Harry had gone off with another SAS man and Dougie was ringing Gwen again.

Meanwhile Bron was busily getting her gig stuff together, all the while checking her scar to make sure it wasn't visible. Angy came in to look at her, as she pulled her t-shirt on featuring the Sex Pistols 'Never mind the buzzcocks'

"Hey," she said, smiling and twirling around. 'Alex picked it up for me today, what do you think?'

"Its fine," Angy replied shortly, leaning against the doorjamb. Her mouth was a thin bloodless line and she radiated silent anger. Bron scowled, before finally snapping: 'Alright you've been pissy with me since we saw Ryan. What is with you?'

"I just didn't think you could be so selfish!" Angharad snapped. 'You shouldn't be trying to make Tom jealous by flirting with Ryan!"

Bron sighed as she finished applying the last of some spray to punk up her hair. 'Angy, are you _seriously_ accusing me of trying to make Tom jealous through Ryan?'

Angy snorted and folded her arms over her chest. She radiated angry disbelief. 'I know you are! Tom is really upset by this!' she strode over and gripped Bron's wrist, fingers tightening with her rage. 'He thought you two were close! Then you do this with Ryan?'

"Look Ryan was the one who came up with the idea – I haven't seen him properly for weeks!" Bron snapped, releasing Angy's hold on her and scowling. 'Tom's not even bothered; anyhow you know Ryan and me are only mates!'

"Of course Tom cares!" Angy hissed, flushing red with anger. 'And you know he cares! How can you be so selfish?'

"He bloody stormed off when I was about to ask if he wanted to come!" Bron snapped, before brushing her dark hair back. 'If you don't want to come then don't!'

"I wouldn't want to go with a selfish cow like you!" Angy turned on her heel and stormed out, never looking back.

From their seating positions, Dinger and Chris shared a look. Dinger sighed and lit a cigarette, smiling sadistically as he watched it float past the alarm system – him having broken it so he could smoke without going outside.

"So," He looked at Chris who was cleaning out his gun. 'What do we do now?'  
"Easy," Chris watched a shadow cross the room. 'Wait for her to cool down. By the way is there an apostrophe in were?'

"Were? As in what?" Dinger asked, obviously sensing the joke within.

"As in Were in the shit if we help Bron's case?" Chris stated.

Dinger laughed hollowly. 'Oh yea mate.'

Angy stormed onto the balcony lighting her cigarette, as she furiously tapped her fingers against the metal bar.

"Hey," she turned to see Danny standing next to her, dressed in his casual jeans and t-shirt. 'Ready to go'

"I'm not going," Angharad spat, spinning around to lean on the railing. 'Bron's being a selfish cow so I'm staying away.' Silence descended, long and uncomfortable and Danny watched as his girlfriend struggled with her feelings. Finally she burst out, 'Can you believe her and Ryan?'

"What?" he looked out at where Chris and Dinger were obviously spooking the bucktoothed male. 'Her and…' he began to laugh richly while Angharad flushed with rage.

"It's not funny," Angy protested, scowling. She took a long drag on her cigarette to calm herself but rage still simmered in her stomach. 'She's treating Tom's feelings like they're worthless. How can she do that to him?' she bit her lip. 'He loves her so much.'

"I know, and she does love him," Danny smirked and gently hugged his girlfriend. 'But she's got that act of not caring too.'

"How…"

"Please she's got a chip on her shoulder." Danny smirked. 'And she just doesn't want to believe she loves someone.'

"Mmm," Angy bit her lip again. 'What do I do?'

"Calm down and go back with her, I'll make _him _see sense later. You work on her now," Danny assured her. 'Now go on in and give her a hug.'

In fact, Bron couldn't have been more surprised if she tried when Angy came over and hugged her unexpectedly. Dinger looked up curiously from where he was sititng, although for once he didn't pass comment.

"So ready?" Angy asked.

Bron grinned. 'Only if you are snapper.'

From his position, an elder male watched with curiosity as the group descended out of the club. He could see Bronwen a mile off – the subject of his attack. He felt a bile of guilt rise within him. He paused, noting that Ian was with them – he could make out a slight bulge in his jacket indicating that he carried a gun.

Sighing, he pressed his hand to his radio and watched them leave Brookingl hotel.

"Ciaran, they're leaving, keep an eye at Crawdaddy, remember that's where Brandon Daly, said he thought he heard the bucktoothed one say that's where they were heading.'

Sean sighed and slipped into the darkness.

Meanwhile, Dinger was enjoying his long argument with Danny over his records – despite the fact that he too owned most of them."It's disgusting!" he commented through the side of his mouth as he clenched on a cigarette. 'You don't even have your own music to like.'

With that particular comment, he threw one CD out the window. Danny looked at him horrified. 'What did you do that for?'

"Well the window was open, and I threw it out," Dinger stated, turning slightly to throw a wink at the three younger members in the back. 'If I see shit, I react to it. Gotta throw it out.'

"I'll throw you out in a minute, your killing me with that fag!" Danny complained.

"I'm having Chris bring me back," Dinger stated, as he tossed another CD out. 'He has proper music… and what's this? The Jam?'

Instantly Danny stiffened. 'Don't you…' he didn't have time to move before Dinger had thrown the CD out the window. 'That was?'

"Jam again!" Dinger was getting more liberal with his throwing technique while both Angy and Ryan protested; Bron merely ignored the elder man – knowing him all too well to start protesting. 'The Sex Pistols? SHOWADDYWADDY?!'

That very name earned the silence of the car. Danny took a gulp of air, and rearranged his tie with his spare hand.

"It's me mum's," he said, resuming his tight grip on the wheel. Angy reached over to give her boyfriends arm a tight squeeze. He glanced in the wing mirror to give her a wink.

"Sorry mate, but your record collections shit," with that final quote from himself, Dinger threw the CD collection out of the window, whilst Bron and Angy laughed.

"Ten O'clock Pick up,"

Ciaran Murphy was perfectly still as he saw a black car roll up to the street.

_Finally_, he thought. The time had come. Ciaran had been up in his tree waiting for this since last night. It was now 8 PM. Show time.

A drop of sweat crawled down the side of his face and fell to the branch below him, but he took no notice. All of his attention was focused on the target in front of him. The car slid up to the front door of one of the best clubs that Dublin had to offer. There was a party today and all were invited to hear the band. His victims were just a few metres away.

Ciaran watched patiently as the passenger door closest to the entrance was pushed open. He blinked one last time as the two girls and boy stepped out of the car.

A smile curved upwards on his lips.

The prey had been found


	16. 16: Missing faces

_**This is one of my weak chapters so I apologise expressly for its rubbishness. :(

* * *

**_

Fifteen

Posters hung on building walls  
Of missing faces.  
Months go by without the cause,  
The clues, or traces.

© Chris Daughtry: All these lives

"_**Oh yeah, I dunno where I stand anymore,  
And tonights the night for the guns to come out" **_

_**  
**_The out of tune singing of Bron and Angy echoed around the club as they gulped down their respective Cointreau and Strongbow. Ryan approached with a Guinness, and grasping slightly at his ear.

"Who are these again?" he shouted over the music.

"The Dachau Angels, and the reason you don't have to pay at the bar!" remarked Bron, her speech slurring slightly. 'They're the best band in the world.'

"I thought the Beatles were?" responded Ryan, drinking from his Guinness.

"Get lost," Bron sung, before returning to singing along. 'Oh God, I love _I dunno_…'

Angy shook her head. 'Oh God, you are out-of-tune… even more than normal!'

Dinger sighed as he jogged downstairs to the nightclub. People with gyrating hips bumped past him. The room was pulsating with noise, and a cover of Billy Idol's white wedding was now being sung by the band.

"Bloody kids, don't even have their own music to listen to," he muttered.

He soon spotted the group, as they sat together talking in loud drunken conversation. He shook his head and began to approach.

"Bronwen! Angy! Buckie!" he called, as he walked over to the group. 'Get out! Now. Chris is waiting!'

Bron sighed, before throwing her cointreau over him. He roared in absolute temper, as Bron giggled. 'Sorry Dinger but you acted wet so you deserved to be wet!'

They all laughed as they stumbled up, bumping past people and apologising drunkenly.

Angy smiled dopily as she tripped outside of the Dublin club, Ryan had fixed his hand on Bron's shoulder as they staggered outside. Dinger was still inside sopping wet from Bron's stunt.

"Sweet Jesus I'm bloody pissed," Ryan giggled, as he spotted Chris's car. 'Look there's your Uncle.'

Bron gave a dopey grin at her friend. 'Come on,'

Angharad paused to take a photograph of the Crawdaddy club. Bron paused to garner some drunken air, promising herself that she would wind Tom up when she got back, while Ryan continued to laugh nervously.

Something pushed Angharad hard, and she heard screaming behind her. As she began to bounce back forward after the impact, she felt an arm suddenly wrap around her waist. She kicked out, her sandals scuffing against the concrete. Trying to pull away from the arm's tight grasp, she opened her mouth to scream but nearly gagged as she felt something thrust inside it. Angharad could see from the corner of her eye that the others were having the same treatment.

The grip on Angharad's body changed, and she felt powerful hands on her arms, dragging them behind her back. She felt those strong hands moving down her arms, pulling them together until her wrists pressed together, and then rope binding them. Angharad was screaming desperately, and fighting, but it was getting her nowhere. She kicked her legs out although whoever held them kicked them from under her so she was more manoeuvrable.

Bron had managed to get some of the wadding out of her own mouth and screamed desperately for help, the sound of her own voice lost to the heavens. Something wrapped tightly over her wrists, around and around as it pressed them close together. She screamed again, sobbing with her hopelessness. She struggled to avoid the press of the wadding back between her lips to no avail, and then could only watch as those hands tore off a strip of the flesh-coloured tape and pressed it over her lips.

Ryan cried out into his own gag as the hands took hold of his arms and turned him roughly to face the ground. He felt more tape wrap around his ankles. He tried to turn to see who was doing this to him, but could feel the harsh asphalt he felt the tape continue to wrap up over his calves and knees, welding his legs together through his jeans. Then the hands were on his hips, lifting him and turning him easily in the air to place him down on one sturdy shoulder. He could see that Bron was being more of a handful and was kicking her legs up.

"Bronwen!"

Chris sprung from the car and fired two clean shots. Dinger suddenly appeared and was shouting orders. Angy watched as Dinger rugby tackled the one who had Bron to the ground. She watched as Bron stood and applied a good kick to the man who had Ryan. Yet they were running and she could see that it was a man now, holding her and that he was wearing a dark shirt and jeans. Then something closed her eyes to the world and she was, rammed harshly into the van.

The mood in the hotel room had rapidly gone downhill since an hour before. Bron was nursing a sore head, while Ryan was being dressed down by a mixture of Jane Friese's cajoling and Tudor's insistent ranting. Dinger had gone to take a shower, while Alex was contacting his faithful contacts to find the mole in the hotel.

"Bronwen did you notice anything about them?" Chris asked, kneeling down to look at his niece's sober face. 'Bron this is very important!'

"One had a scar down his cheek," Bron replied slowly. 'I can't tell you much Chris I'm sorry. One will have a sore hand I managed to bite him.'

"Look out for possible terrorist suspects with bite wounds in local hospitals," Tudor suggested pompously.

"Yeah right," Dinger snapped. He looked at Ryan who raised his eyebrow in question. 'They'll be protected.'

"Where was his scar luv?" Julian asked, kneeling next to her. 'Right or left?'

"Left. From temple to lip," Bron drew the line as a demonstration on Julian's cheek. Once she was done, he caught her hand. 'One was Sinead's dad.'

"How did you know? And how do you know this person?" demanded Tudor from behind. Chris shot the man a warning look.

"He said I'll get her out," Bron looked up. 'And he called me Molly.'

Chris stood abruptly rubbing at his chin in absolute smiles. 'He's against Paddy in many respects. Innocents is one… we've got a chance…'

"What about Angharad's parents?" Jane quietly interrupted.

The silence went through the air, and it wasn't broken for several moments, until Bron spoke.

"I'll make the call,"

"Bronwen,"

"It was my fault, for getting pissed!" Bron snapped, snatching the phone up. 'I shouldn't have been so damned stupid.'

The clicks were the haunting thing, and Bron silently counted each click – knowing that Alex was tracing all phone calls.

"Hello?" Julie's familiar tone echoed in Bron's ears, immediately choking her.

"Hey Julie," Bron said, holding the phone between her fingers and feeling tears begin to stir in her eyes. 'It's Bron here.'

"Hello, Bron. Is everything alright?"

Bron closed her eyes and swallowed. She looked to Chris, who gave her a terse smile. 'Something's happened in Ireland,' she could hear Julie's sharp intake. 'It's all my fault Julie! I am so sorry,'

"Why what's happened?" Julie's voice was frantic with worry and Bron felt guilt choke her. She gasped for breath and Julie shrieked, "What's happened?!"

"Angy's been kidnapped."


	17. 17: Face to face, out in the heat

_Ok a bit of strength here; part of my story. Some of this is based on a conversation I had earlier this month so thank you!_

And thanks for the support

* * *

_Sixteen_

_'Why are you so edgy, Kid ?'  
asks the man with the voice  
one thing follows another  
you live and learn, you have no choice_

_© Shot by both Sides: Magazine_

Angharad was jostled, thrown around in the cramped, smelly interior of the van as the van drove onward. The smell of exhaust and laundry detergent that permeated her small environment was the least of her worries, and she fought frantically against the tape that bound her arms and legs. If she could only get the tape off her hands, she knew that she would be able to work her way out of the rest of it, but there was too much tape around them and she could barely even squirm her fingers within its sticky grip. Having made no progress on her bonds, she moaned with fear as the van rolled to a stop once more, her belly knotting up nervously. She couldn't see anyone.

She snorted, exhaling through her nose as she heard the van door open and then felt hands on her body again. She kicked out feebly as she was once more lifted and slung over her captor's shoulder. She began to feel light-headed as she hung there, upside down.

Suddenly her eyes were relieved of their bondage and she winced at the sudden sunlight, and she rubbed at her eyes in desperation to cleanse them of the darkness she'd just experienced.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

"So original Miss John," a man's voice echoed in her ears. 'I was expecting some original Tyler wit.'

"You've got the wrong bird," Angharad emphasized a welsh accent.

"I hope you are," The man responded, before frowning. 'I hope you'll be compliant.'

"Probably not…" Angharad heard a scream down the corridor. 'What do you want?'

"As I said information, one of my friends is obviously not complying with our wishes." The man tilted her head back and studied her face. 'You are very beautiful, but if you don't comply I'll use force.'

"I'm not Bronwen. My names Angharad Locke," Angy assured the Irishman. 'If you don't believe me, I've got my VIP card in my pocket.'

The man leant over, and ripped it out of her jacket. He stared at the photo then at her. Angy, suddenly, realised who the dark eyes belonged to.

This was Paddy.

"Ciaran Murphy!" he called. A young man came in. 'This is the wrong bird.'

"Boss it was dark!" replied the young man. Another followed. 'Sean, tell him.'

"Chris Tyler got out of the car, Ian came out of the club and I let go of the girl I was hold-" he broke off. 'Paddy let her go. She's not part of your vendetta!'

"No, and Ciaran," the younger looked at him, his green eyes filled with fear. 'I don't like mistakes.'

The shot which came next earned a scream from Angharad's lips as Paddy calmly raised his gun and fired a shot. Ciaran was next to Sean, eyes wide, a bullet in his head. Sean couldn't see the bullet, but he did see a pool of blood spreading across the man's face as he dropped down dead to the floor.

"He was 19 Paddy, you made mistakes at his age," Sean spat out. He looked at his leader in disgust. 'I'm having a fag. Have your sadistic fun. Just remember Chris will kill you if you touch her in any more than the physical sense.'

Angharad focused on an image of her mother talking to her. The gentle smile and vague touch of her hand on her face. Memories which faded with fear faster than she cared to think about – but she clutched at images of Danny then. Fresh memories of him whispering sweet nothings in her ears after a good night. Then gentle kisses before anyone saw them.

The man pulled on his leather gloves, and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Angharad pursed her lips in open defiance – although she could feel all the saliva draining from her mouth. She could hear screams echoing through the corridors but she couldn't block it out.

Angharad heard the scream again but she managed to block it out… slightly. 'I'd rather DIE than be a hostage.'

"Somehow I doubt it," the man flexed his hand. 'Why are you in Ireland?'

"I'm a journalist." Angharad stated. 'I was with Bron photographing the band.'

The slap which came nearly took her head off her shoulders, causing her to fall over. Blood tingled between her lips – and she spat it out disagreeably.

"Bet you feel better for that?" she spat, as he righted her. 'Hitting a woman, and thinking you're hard… I've had harder smacks off of me brother.'

The man grinned maliciously. 'You obviously like pain.' He punched her again, and she hit the ground yelping in pain. 'Now then, no more lip.'

"Can't help it, my lips going to swell now," she looked up again – her eyes refusing to yield the fear she was feeling. 'And I'm not afraid…'

"Not yet girl... but you will be."

**

The doors to the hotel flew open and a leather-jacketed male came running in. Behind him jogged a younger woman and teenage boy.

Leigh Whitmore, however, looked primly over her glasses at the three guests. Leigh Whitmore was a tall woman with long curled hair with ice-blue eyes which seemed to glare out at you. Her heavily pencilled eyebrows were arched and her jewelled spectacles glimmered in the light.

But she knew how to handle vagabonds like this.

"How can I help you?" she said snottily.

"Where's Bronwen?" the woman gasped. 'Bronwen John. Yay big,' she gesticulated a short height.

"Sorry Madame, but I'll have to ask you t' calm yourself."

"Now look here you old crone I'm here for a reason…"

"Julie calm down," the man said, calmly. He moved Julie gently to the side before he turned to Leigh. 'Could you ring upstairs please? Tell them that the Locke family is here?'

"I will do no such thing…"

"Have it your own way," the man walked calmly to the other door and opened it. 'Bronwen!'

At that precise moment, Bronwen was strolling downstairs, she tipped her head in thought, as Martyn's yell startled her. She stopped on seeing Julie, but then ran to hug the female. Julie hugged her tight, reassuring her with clucking noises before noting a large blonde haired man jogging downstairs.

"This is my Uncle Chris," Bron said quickly. 'Martyn, Julie and Owen Locke.'

"Pleasure," Chris shook each member's hand. 'How about I tell you everything.'

"I would appreciate it," Julie replied.

Danny ran down to greet them. 'Hey, I'm…'

"We know," Julie gently looked at Bron who was staring past the stairs down onto the sitting room. 'Bron?'

"Someone I know is down there," she broke off, before looking at Julie. 'Sorry Julie I've got…'

"You're not going _anywhere,"_ Julie said sharply. She noted how wide Bron's eyes went in surprise. 'Bron, I don't want to explain to your mother that you've gone missing too.'

"I wont!" Bron protested, although Dinger's appearance assured her she was going nowhere. 'Look, I think it's Sinead.'

"Sinead can't do anything, now in!" Dinger snapped, he gently picked her up and carried her upstairs. Bron managed to deliver a quick jab to his face, and he quickly righted her to give her a good shake. Julie parted them, although Bron broke into a run. Dinger swore, and broke into a run after her.

"CHRIS!" he shouted, and the big man ran down after her.

Bron skidded down into the women's toilets, only stopping to catch her breath. She looked around before nodding. Not even the Big SAS men would come in here. A redheaded woman stood, there. She leaned lazily against the toilet door. Heavy breathing echoed in the air and Bron noted the red-head's muscles were taut and the scuffed knuckles.

"Morning Bron," announced the girl in gaelic. 'It's been much too long.'

"Morning Sinead," Bron replied, embracing her fondly. 'I agree.'

The two had grown up together, neither caring even at teenagehood that they shouldn't be friends – especially with their respective British soldier Uncle and Irish rebel father. The two shared a close bond, which was only made stronger by their opposite notions of right and wrong as well as the opposing forces against their friendship. Sinead had recently gained entry into The London School of Economics and Political science; studying government. Bron had decided to do defer work like Angharad, Gwen and Charlotte. Although Bron had decided to take journalism the following year - and Sinead had been staying in Jane's flat in London.

However on hearing the alarm bells in Ireland; she'd quickly returned - knowing that where there was trouble, there were normally the renegade guards; as well as Tylers. And Tyler's meant Bron's.

"Your friend is being held in the docklands somewhere," Sinead said, immediately getting down to business. 'Dad says to tell Chris not to bother, he'll get her out. Just have someone waiting in all the alleys away from the docklands.'

Bron nodded slowly. 'Why didn't he take me?'

"Paddy was planning to film you being shot on camera. He wanted to prove to Chris no one was invincible. He even had the speech made out, where you were to sob and then he'd empty the cartridge into your stomach, before slicing open your stomach and watching you bleed to death. When he found out… he killed Ciaran instead.' Sinead choked, and Bron reached out only to have her hand brushed away. 'Look Dingers coming now… illiterate bastard.'

Bron smirked. 'Yeah, look you'd better,'

"Yeah, I'll be missed."

When Danny came into the room behind Dinger, he was horrified to see what Dinger was doing to the teenager. He was firmly holding her by the back of the neck and holding her underneath some water in the sink.

"Dinger! Your drowning her!"

"I'm not; now shut up;"

"DINGER!"

"One minute," he brought her head up roughly and Bron choked and coughed for air. 'You don't punch me.'

"Pisser," Bronwen hissed. Dinger smacked her arse lightly, earning him a yelp of pain. 'Ok I was talking to Sinead.'

"She could've led you into a trap," Dinger released his hold on her. 'Now what did she tell you?'

"Her dad's sorting it," Bron said, rubbing her arse. 'There's no need to smack me though.'

"Until Angy gets back you stay put." Dinger said sharply. 'Now get upstairs.'

"No." Bron snapped, before her head was shoved back under briefly. She gasped for air and kicked out. Dinger released her, and she coughed. 'For christs sake Dinger, Sinead's given us information! She said to have someone waiting at all the alleys of the docklands.'

"Why didn't Sean take you?" Dinger asked. Bron shook her head. 'Bronwen.'

"I will not allow Paddy's blood to be put on my hands no matter how indirectly," Bron replied. Dinger growled, although he stepped away. 'No.'

"Fine." Dinger turned to Chris, who'd appeared in the doorway. 'He was going to kill her.'

Chris glanced at his niece, every fatherly instinct bubbling up as he looked at her. Her eyes were wide with shock – and he reached over to hug her. She studied him, coldly before brushing past both of them.

"Sort it." She hissed. 'Or I will.'

"What does she mean? Or I'll sort it out of curiosity?" Danny asked; putting his hands on his hips. 'Huh?'

"Bron grew up a bit in Ireland;" replied Chris. 'She knows some of the Irish Guard tricks of the trade better than what they do. She will stop at nothing to get her friend back; and that is something to be feared… by both myself and the Guards.'


	18. 18: My sweet surrender

**Ok this is my happy chapter ;) Although Bron & Tom still havent made up, which doesnt help matters, although this could soon be resolved. ;) **

**

* * *

**

**Sixteen**

**About the future I only can reminisce  
For what I've had is what I'll never get  
And although this may sound strange  
My future and my past are presently disarranged  
And I'm surfing on a wave of nostalgia for an age yet to come**

**  
© Nostalgia: The Buzzcocks**

Angy awoke in her prison, sobbing fearfully. Her body was bruised, and her mind was loose from the wine that had been forced down her throat.

Fear trickled down her spine as the door opened.

"Hello there, you've been given some wine with painkillers in." The voice belonged to a gentle irish male. She looked up to be met with Sean's eyes. They were round and kind. 'Can you stand?'

Angharad nodded, the wine she'd been given was taking effect now. 'Yes.'

He put his hand out, and intertwined around her own. 'Good, now walk. Don't run walk. I'm going to take you out and as soon as you are out _run_.'

Angharad nodded as he guided her down the intertwining corridors, him supporting her as they walked. She was surprised at the darkness, and she realised she'd been here one day already.

"Who are you?" she managed.

"Sean," he answered shortly. 'You're knight in shining armour.'

"But…"

"Now run," he hissed, as he shoved her out the door.

Angharad's legs pounded the ground with a fearful speed, glass embedded in the bottoms of her feet, blood seeping from around the shards. She sprinted and rounded a corner into a dark alleyway. She didn't know where she was; her mind was not functioning. Her legs propelled Angharad into a large man, smoking a cigarette in the alleyway. The man dropped the cigarette and wrapped his arms around the fearful woman tightly. Angharad screamed in fear.

"Angy! ANGY! Calm down, Angy, It's me! It's Danny!"

Angharad stopped screaming and pounding on the man's chest and looked up. Her hair hung limp in her face as she stared. "Danny?"

"Yes, Angy. Danny." He confirmed. Angharad started crying into his jacket. Danny picked her up gingerly, noticing how weak she was and carried her into the armoured vehicle. How she had gotten to him in the first place was beyond him. Angharad was turning her head back and forth, muttering something incoherently under her breath.

"God, Angy, we have to bring you into a hospital of summat..." At those words, Angharad screamed "no!" And grabbed onto Danny's arm.

"No, we can't, we can't, he'll find me, he'll kill, he will, Danny, he will, trust me." Angharad said in her delirium.

"No one will hurt you," he assured her and lifted her. 'I promise.'

"Danny?" Angharad called as her head turned. She saw Danny, sitting there next to her and smiled. Her head was swimming. Where was she again?

"Angharad...? How did you... Where... what...?"

"I missed you. I'm sorry." She mumbled, smiling absently

"Angy, are you okay?"

"Mm no... must've been wine..." Angharad hummed, head lolling back and forth idly.

"Wine... Oh, no..." Danny caressed her face and looked in her eyes. "I don't know... What happened, Sunshine, do you remember?"

"Sunshine," She sang. A giggle escaped. "Uh... I can't remember. My feet hurt, though."

"I can understand... Shit, Angharad..." Danny raised a foot and looked at the bottom. It was dirty, and had delicate glass shards in the soles. Danny, gentle as he could be, pulled out on large shard from the arch of her foot. Angharad groaned in pain.

"Ow... that hurt..."

"Angharad, are you okay?"  
"I don't know... I feel... funny, though."

"Funny? In what way?"

"I don't know... But I love you. Lovey, lovey, lovey...." Angharad giggled.

Danny groaned and pulled her into his lap. "Come head, sweetheart."

"NO! NO NO!" Angharad pushed herself off Danny's lap and landed with a thud on the floor of the vehicle. The memories of Paddy referring to her as 'sweetheart' as he punched her standing out a mile in her minds.

Danny pulled her back up and rubbed her back gently. "I'm sorry, Sunshine, I'm sorry..."

"mmkay, you're Danny, right?"

"Yes, sunshine."

"Not Paddy?"

"Not Paddy." Danny whispered. "No, Not Paddy." Danny held her close, stroking her hair. "Angharad hold on, Chris will help you.'

Danny slipped out of the car with Angharad in his arms. She was rambling about something obscene and playing with Danny's tie. "Sunshine, I think you're stoned."

"No, I feel light as a feather."

"Oh, God..."

"I'm sleeeeeeepy, Danny."

"Crap."

"Hmmmm?"

"Nothin'... let's get you cleaned up."

"Ooooookay."

Danny went inside and climbed up the stairs. He could hear murmuring from another room, along with a few swearwords. Chris entered the room behind Danny; he gently examined her foot before swearing.

"Julie, I know you're hovering so go get me some tweezers and a glass," Chris said without turning around. He could hear Julie rushing off to get them. 'And Danny could you run some boiling hot water so I can put the tweezers in there to sterilise them'

Julie stopped in the doorway, Chris whipped both things she held out of her hands. 'Is she… she'll need…'

"I was a medic in the service, Julie," Chris assured her, his cool blue eyes assessing Julie's concerns. 'Julie could you stand outside the door?'

"Chris she's,"

"Going to scream in a few moments," Chris said. 'Believe me, it'll kill me. I can't imagine what it's going to do to you.'

Julie nodded at him before ushering Danny out.

"Fortune, fame, Mirror vain, Gone insane, But the memory remains!" Angy sung.

Chris gently set Angharad in the bathtub and turned on the hot faucet, making sure the tub wasn't plugged. "Ow. Hot."  
"Sorry, angel."

"It's okay." Angharad hummed. Chris lifted up a foot and took a pair of tweezers. "Whatcha doin' Chris?"

"I'm taking the glass out of your foot, pet."

"Okay."

"It's going to hurt."

"I don't care," Angharad muttered, leaning her head against the rim of the tub. "I trust you." Chris looked at her and gripped the tweezers tight before sinking them in and pulling out a shard of glass. Angharad giggled. Chris sighed and pulled out another. "It tickles..."

"It shouldn't," Chris muttered, cursing Paddy for drugging her. He sank the tweezers into her feet and pulled out a glass shard each time, filling a small container with them. By the end, Angharad was screaming in pain.

"Okay, I'm done, angel. It's over." Angharad was crying when Chris had finished with his disinfecting and bandaging. He picked her up and carried her to the common room. She was quivering and Julie took her gratefully into her arms. Angy sobbed, but Chris knelt.

"Now what did he do to you? Danny took you into the van and your feet were torn up, you were bruised and you didn't have any jeans. Are you okay?"

"He didn't do anything to me. He beat me up a bit, but I'm fine."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

Chris settled back on his arse, glancing at where his niece was leaning. She was staring at Angy with tears running down her cheeks. He merely lifted his arm and she ran over to hug him.

"We'll get the bastard tomorrow chickie,"

**

Angy sighed as she pressed her hand against her wounded foot. She winced in pain but continued to meticulously feel her way around the short stabbing scars from her escape. Her bruised stomach wasn't feeling as bad anymore and she felt less cold than she had earlier.

"Hey," she looked over to see Danny leaning on the door. 'What're you still doing up?'

Angy shrugged and touched the largest wound on her foot gently testing the tender skin. She winced as a flash of pain shot up her leg. 'Nightmares. And I needed to check for myself how bad my feet were.' She gave a dry smile. 'They're pretty bad.'

Danny stepped forward and took her hand pulling it away. He was shocked when she followed the movement willingly. Had Paddy managed to break some of her iron spirit? His wild thoughts were pushed aside when she snatched her hand away, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

Relief filled him and he smiled. 'Well you're not going to make them any better by prodding them all the time are you?'

Angy shrugged, but smirked, as he tenderly ran his finger down the scars, grooving around her scars. Suddenly her breath hitched slightly, and his eyes connected with hers.

"Did you know that," he stood slowly, Angharad realising swiftly that she was pinned in… yet she didn't care. 'Tickling earns a somewhat sexual reaction from them.'

Angharad blushed, and resolutely held his gaze. 'I'd like to see you try, Jones.'

"Mm," he smiled and gently leant in to plant a long lingering kiss on her lips. He smiled as he pulled away – noting her eyes were half closed with pleasure. 'What do you think?'

"I've had better," she purred, giggling at their gentle banter. It felt like the despair of her kidnap and capture was being washed away with the normality of the situation. She pressed into Danny's arms and smiled as he kissed her hair. 'Promise you won't let him get Bron.'

"What with Chris around?" Danny chuckled, mirthlessly. 'He won't get anywhere near her. Anyway it's you I'm concerned about.'

"Thank you," she murmured, eye lids drooping as exhaustion overwhelmed her. She pressed closer still, and he manoeuvred them to the sofa. Soon she fell asleep wrapped in his warmth. Her sleep was dreamless from then on that night.

"It has been announced on the news tonight," Angy awoke to find Julian kneeling by the telly. He raised his hand to silence her from talking. 'That the notorious Patrick Mulligan has been killed in a car accident.'

"What a shame," Bron intoned from where she was standing with Tom. She put her hand on his shoulder, only for him to brush her off. 'Say, what…'

"Just piss off," he responded. 'Go back to Ryan.'

Bron stared as he moved off. 'Fine, go!'

"I think I preferred being kidnapped to you two arguing!" Angy snapped, earning her a slight look off of Chris and Dinger. 'I was exaggerating.'

"Well don't!" Chris snapped before glaring at Bron. 'Bronwen; you…'

"Oh shut it Chris, I'll sort it myself." And with those words she stormed off.


	19. 19: Look of love

_Bron & Tom finally work it out! Thanks for all the support, and just wondering if you'd like me to put in a prelude to all the story, including the review, set in the future. Warning you mind there is a twist ending to the whole story with the prelude. _

_Warning: Hint of sexual activity. _

_Eighteen_

* * *

_Big and black the clouds may be, time will pass away.  
If you put your trust in me I'll make bright your day.  
Look into these eyes now, tell me what you see.  
Don't you realise now, what you see is me._

_© Tell me what you see: The Beatles_

_**10**__**th**__** March 2010**_

_**Hey Everybody!**_

Kellie Sixties is back! After a two week break, (one enforced due to my Spleen probs) and the scares in the concerts.

A quick note to everyone who think they know who I am, my name isn't Bronwen John. What sort of fool names their daughter BJ? I'll probably suffer for that later. But here I am anyway, Bron however is working with Jann Werner on his new Teenage magazine Curtis Lee – check it out sometime.

_**But back to the music, the Dachau Angels & McFly gig in the Crawdaddy Club was so much fun! Angie McFie's back on top form. Her photographs of Dougie and Alena Oster are simply Ethereal. Quite fitting really…**_

_**Tom…**_

At the very name Bron broke off from her rapid typing and rubbed at her face. She glanced into where she could make out Tom sleeping. She sighed and saved a quick draft of her work, before having a quick look on the Unseen Website.

She smiled as she spotted Gwen's blog being uploaded, it was still early for her to be working, but she knew Gwen wanted to talk to Dougie later and it was also her final article of Gwen's career in the magazine.

Carefully, she clicked on the questions.

The subjects ranged from older relationships, to broken hearted first loves, to a girl who'd got caught given an old fashioned HJ at the back of the concert the other night.  
The advice (as per usual) was sound and witty. Each piece of advice gave Bron a flash of hope as she read through them. She sighed heavily before rubbing at her eyes.

"I really can't believe I'm about t'do this." She murmured to herself, before beginning to type.

In her London home, where Dougie had moved her into, Gwen finished the last droplets of her coke. Sighing, she sat down ready to finish off the last of her blog. She smiled as she noted that Bron had updated hers and she was about to click on it when she saw that she was flagged. Sighing, and quietly cursing her followers, she was surprised to say the least when she saw it was internal mail.

She was even more surprised when she realised it was Bron's email – and it would seem it was directed for advice. With unabashed curiosity she clicked it open.

_Dear Aunty Musouka, _

_I've got troubles. _

_I've been working away for a couple of weeks now, and I've fallen for this goofy guy I know. He's like really fun (she was really going overboard with all the teenage speak) and a good laugh to be with._

The problem is he won't speak to me. I went out with a mate a couple of nights back with an old friend, but he took it the wrong way. I wanted him to come too but he's refused to speak to me since. I really do like him

_Any advice_

_Miss Understanding. _

Gwen sat back considering before typing a reply.

_Dear Miss Understanding. _

_  
Well it's clear to me that you really like this guy. First of all, just go and tell him that you want to talk to him, preferably in private. Try your best to reason with him, and if you need to give him some evidence of your relationship with your old friend, a message from him for example. _

_  
But most of all talking is the best option._

Good luck

xx

"Gee thanks Gwen you're really specific," Bron stated sarcastically as she wiped some hair from her eyes.

She was still sitting at 11.00 PM, and nothing had been decided, that was until Tom awoke as Bron returned to her writing. He rolled over in bed and watched her as she typed. He coughed and she turned. 'You woke me?'

"Shut up for five minutes." Bron sounded normal, so he smirked. 'I'll just finish this message off.'

She typed quick and without looking at the keyboard. To her she needed to finish to speak to him. To him it was like a breath of fresh air, to see her actually _passionate _about something. Not the usual lacklustre lazy passion she usually displayed. She suddenly stood and walked to his room.

"Hey," she said sitting on his bed. He frowned. 'Don't start.'

"Why not?" he glared at her, finally relieved he had her on his own so they continue their row in private. 'Bron you went off with…'

"Ryan," Bron completed, smiling. 'He's an old friend. We've always been flirty with one another.'

"Why do it in front of me though?" he sank back onto the bed, unwilling to give in this row. 'It wasn't fair.'

"I'm not fair minded," Bron sighed, bitterly. 'I just wanted to see how far I could push. I nearly pushed you too far away. I forgot you weren't Angy.'

"Oh?" he was about to sit up when she suddenly kicked off her boots and crawled into bed next to him. 'Hey, what's this all about?'

"It's nearly midnight and I'm tired," she replied, smiling jadedly. 'Now shut up and sleep.'

They lay in silence for a while, Bron's breathing becoming deeper as she began to drift into sleep. Tom smoothed her hair from her face, she didn't even stir.

"You do know I'm jealous because I love you?" he said. _That_ stirred her from her sleep.

"I… don't know what to say," Bron whispered as she turned to look at him.

"I think your ok with it,"

Tom's face was an inch away from hers and she could feel the heat from Tom's breath on her face.

"I'm okay with it," Bron said softly. Her heart beat increased, she felt as if it would burst out of her chest any minute. Tom pulled her in and planted a gentle and loving kiss on her lips and moaned.

"I love you," Tom said, Bron kissed Tom feverously.

"I like you too," she said, Tom ran his tongue over Bron's lips and Bron obeyed by opening up her mouth. Tom deepened the kiss as Bron moaned, running her hands all over Tom's body.

"I've changed my mind," she hissed, suddenly. Tom released his hold – eyes wide with fear. 'I love you t –'

Her final words were welded shut by Tom melding his lips to her own and she reciprocated the kiss with rising passion, until she didn't care if she died in his arms at that moment...

Soon there was nothing left to the two apart from whispered reassurances and gentle kisses.

**

Angy was sitting comfortably doing some work, early the next morning, when Bron slipped out of Tom's bedroom. Angy looked up with a small smile, reminding herself that Harry now owed her a tenner. Bron couldn't see her, and was quickly putting on her punk t-shirt, also hastily checking for Chris or any other adult who could contact her mother.

"You forgot your watch," Tom hissed, coming out only in his boxers. He fumbled it around Bron's wrist before Bron reached up and caught him in a tight kiss. Angy nearly choked in surprise as Bron blushed as they broke off. 'Love you.'

"See you later," she whispered. 'Love you.'

Tom shut the door between them, and Bron turned around. For a few moments she stood, almost elated but she soon returned to her usual indifference.

"Ok, you can come out Mr. Tyler" She called. Angy stepped out as she turned. 'Oh hello?! I thought it was Chris?'

"No Just me… good night?" Bron crossed her eyes at that stupid question. 'Uh-huh?'

"Yes;" Bron grinned. 'What are the symptoms of love?'

"Let's see… dicky stomach, dopey smiles… and I'll need your clarification for the last one?" Angharad said. 'You suffer from the first two.'

"Ok, what's the final symptom?"

"Did you and Tom have a good… well…"

"Fantastic." Bron smirked. 'Why?'

"That's the final symptom."

"Well I'm in love and I like it," she went down the corridor, banging on the doors of Chris, Dinger and even Ryan (who had been sleeping in the groups suite since Angy's kidnapping) doors, singing along to the old Gerry and the pacemakers song happily.


	20. 20: Sweet repentances

**Hey everybody, just a bit of drabbley bit ;) Warning, contains mentions of drug use, sexual activity as well as swearing**

**

* * *

**

**Nineteen**

Sometimes our emotions make it hard  
For us to see that  
At the heart of loving is respect and honesty  
And sometimes I'm afraid that I give  
Less than I should give  
But this time I will hold you  
For as long as I live  
I won't die alone  
You won't die alone  
We won't die alone tonight

**© Julian Lennon: Take me home**

"Fa-de-La, we're going home!" Tom sung, as he bounced from the bathroom washing his hair. 'No more on the road.'

"Oh fuck off you creep!" Dougie gave him a kick. 'Gwen's not going to make it to the party. She text me earlier.'

"Stupid bastard; she is going." Harry replied, although he didn't seem bothered at all. 'It's a surprise.'

"Ooh I like surprises." Dougie sniggered.

The four walked down the train, laughing and chattering.

Meanwhile in the carriage, Bronwen, Angharad and Julian sat. Each was quietly looking over work. Julian and Bron were reading, while Angharad flicked through old photo albums.

"Did you and Jane date in the 80's then Jules?"

Bronwen looked up disinterestedly from her magazine as she realised that Angy had asked the blatant question. Julian, however, didn't look disinterested. He just looked… worried.

"I suppose you could say that. If you could count being pushed and kicked around by Jane dating."

"Justin does," reasoned Angy.

Julian gave a sympathetic shrug before sipping at his tea, and returned to reading the paper. 'Why?'

"Because I was reading Jane's diaries… and I couldn't work out who JL was…"

"What are you do you mean? You were reading Jane's diaries?" Julian said, he ran his fingers through his hair. 'Was years ago.'

"And you dated mum before I was born," Bron said, sitting next to Julian. 'I think she still fancies you.'

"She ought to," Julian mumbled, before noting his friends' frown. 'Right…'

"Oh no," Bron pulled him back down. 'No! You ain't getting away with this.'

"Bron it was over twenty years ago," Julian frowned. 'Look't me! Happy bachelor, and I know before you deny, how that sneaky little mind of yours works. Go pester Tom. You and him enjoy arguing!'

"But you're a Lennon, Lennon's are interesting. Yoko is freaky," she added like a child.

"When did _**you**_, meet Yoko Ono?" Angy said, sitting up. 'I've been on many journeys and read all your articles… when did you…'

"Jane." Julian sighed, and shook his head. Angy nodded, suddenly remembering how close Jane and Jules were. 'And when she puked over my Uncle Ritchie,'

"That was Zak's fault for throwing me in the air!" Bron said indignantly. 'Anyway, why don't you ask her out?'

"She's married."

"Dad's been dead a year," Bron said coldly. 'Don't put it off.'

"Fuck off you little durbrain," Julian stood abruptly and headed off down the corridor of the train, ignoring the pained looks behind him.

Soon he was at his destination and stepping into the bathroom. He quickly locked the door and stepped into the shower. The water plundered down his back, mixing with his tears.

Even now; he could see Jen standing before him. Flared trousers – low cut top. Her eyes laughing like her lips. He could see her lying in bed next to him, stroking his chest in thought. Of them walking through Brecon, making plans for the future. The gentle kisses and reassurances they shared.

He bitterly allowed the tears to drop. Life wasn't fair; otherwise Bron would've been his daughter and Jen his wife. Instead she'd married quite a cruel, man who'd been mentally abusive towards the end of his life and whom Julian had hated from the moment they met and shared air.

_Oh Jen… why wasn't it me? _He bit his lip. _Why didn't I follow my heart? And not listen to Yoko??_

_**_The return home party was being held in Julian's newly bought cottage in Brecon. Jenn sighed as she pushed open the door. Julian had gone as far as to send her the key for the party with the note: _'Keep it. I need someone to look after it, when I'm away. All my love Julie'  
_  
Jen sighed as she put away her leather jacket and quickly withdrew her food and bags. It had been almost 20 years since Julian and her had kept up regular contact. They'd dated all too briefly in the 80's – each recognising each other as soul mates, yet being too daft to see through Yoko's conniving.

Yoko hadnt liked Jenn expressly for the reason that Jane was her cousin - Jane's regular insults about Yoko had left her bitter towards the budding relationship. Jen bit her lip.

_1988_

_A rainy afternoon swelled outside a beaten and dirty window. Jen shook her head, promising herself she'd wash it, once she'd got Julian out of bed. She smiled jogging upstairs, memories of her and him buying this small house in London. It was their personal safe haven against Yoko and any other foreboders of their relationship.  
As she neared the bedroom she heard the familiar sound of Julian's heavy breathing and she sighed before recognising a more girlish shriek of Julian's name. She kicked open the door and cried out at the sight of Julian enwrapped in another woman's arms. The woman turned to her and smirked, while Julian pushed her off him.  
"Jen this isn't what you think?"  
"Did I miss something?" Jen snapped tearfully. 'Julian she's Yoko's secretary for christ's sake!'  
"Jen she promised that she'd get dad's money out so we can set up for a family," he attempted to touch her but Jen pushed him away. 'Jen?'  
"No! Never again," she replied. 'Stay out of my life Julian.'_

For once Julian had respected her wishes, never contacting her directly. Only once, during a torrid affair, shortly before she had met and married Peter.

He was a second father to Bron, and would regularly care for her, although he never came into direct contact with Jenn herself. And no matter how both wished, neither stepped down from their positions.

And now here they were reuniting.

And she was a disaster. Her hair was a mess, spilling over her shoulders in uneven waves that left her head looking like a wasp's nest. The bags under her eyes, near permanently residing, were close to absorbing the rest of her face and her cheeks were puffed up from crying, making her seem as if she had been attacked by a puffer fish.

"Fuck what happened to you?" Jane asked, as she entered the kitchen. Julie from behind hit her over the head. 'Oi!'

"Look at you, so kind!" Julie said, sarcastically. 'Jen love what's wrong?'

"I was trying to look nice for Bronwen's new boyfriend, and because it's the party and everything… but everything went over my head," Jen explained, rubbing at her eyes. 'And it's the party…'

"Oh love, if you'd asked we would've helped," Julie said, reassuringly. 'Gwen's been busy, doing the decorations, Charlotte… I'll let my silence speak… and we've basically finished.'

"Well I cant go! Look at me," Jen said angrily.

"She's avoiding it Julie cause of a certain Lennon," Jane said, overlooking the glare Jen was sending her. 'Julie, I think we'd better tidy her up.'

Two hours later, after a severe scrubbing, plucking, washing, and lecturing, Jen was ready. Her hair was straightened and tucked over her shoulder on one side, while the other half was pulled away from her face with a clip. The bags under her eyes were hidden, while her lips shone with a pink lip gloss that matched the ribbons that criss-crossed her chest. The dress Jen had chosen was a pale crème colour that billowed at her knees, but was tight around her waist. For once, she had worn heels, with green ribbons that wrapped around her ankles that elongated her legs. Around her neck was a locket, containing a photograph of Bron.

"You look gorgeous," Jane commented, twirling Jen around as if she hadn't just spent hours butchering Jen's hair and ears with her rough yanks and even rougher language.

"Now go on, enjoy," Julie said, patting Jen on the bum as she sent her outside into the party.

Jen wandered for five minutes, colliding with Lori once and apologising. She could feel both Julie and Jane's eyes on her. She glanced over her shoulder to see the two discretely capturing their respective husbands in conversation. Martyn was looking confused by now and asking '_What are you on about'_ earning him Julie's withering look.

"MUM!" she turned to see Bron running in her direction, dragging Tom behind her. Jen laughed as her small daughter caught her in a tight hug. She looked her over, and scolded her lightly about the scar. 'Mum this is Tom.'

Tom blushed and held out his hand. 'Pleasure to meet you.'

They shared suitably short conversation before Bron walked over to see Lori, dragging Tom once more with her. Jen shook her head, as she scooped up a champagne glass.

"Hello Jen," she nearly dropped it. The deep voice brought back some memories. She turned to be met by Julian's all too familiar gaze. She felt like she was 25 again, and here he was. 'You alright?'

"Yeah," she ran her fingers through her hair. 'Yourself?'

"Can't complain," he gesticulated at where Bron was dancing. 'Never got to tell you this but a sweet kid. They all are.'

"Yeah I suppose so," Jen shook her head. 'Nuts but lovely.'

Julian laughed softly. He smiled as he looked at her, and mentally cursed his own stupidity. Why couldn't have he seen past Yoko's winding up and her constant put downs? Why hadn't he just stood up to her?

Because he wasn't much more than a kid, that was why. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jane gesticulating with her hand for him to dance with her. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Jen d' you fancy a dance?" He asked.

Jen quirked an eyebrow. 'Yeah but I don't think the Arctic Monkeys are our scene do you?'

Julian sent a dirty look back at the two women who were cackling; obviously imagining what damage he could do to them.

**

When Bron woke up the following morning, the first thing that occurred to her was that she had no idea what that taste in her mouth was. It bothered her because it seemed so familiar, but her head was pounding so hard she couldn't concentrate. Maybe some aspirin would clear up the mystery. She slapped Tom roughly on his bare back, although he merely groaned and rolled over. Bron got out of bed, and pulled on the pristine white shirt that Tom had been wearing the previous night.

She stumbled into the bathroom and fumbled in the medicine cabinet, knocking several little bottles over in her search. After a moment she came away with her prize. Two tablets and a glass of water later, she decided that since she was here, she might as well brush her teeth. But now the sink was filled with medicine bottles. No problem. She used her hand to sweep them all onto the floor. She would clean them up later.

Now that her head was clearing up, she could see that she hadn't even changed her clothes from yesterday. Ugh. Now she wanted a shower. Her red dress was in the hamper. She noticed in passing that her knickers had gone missing, and her wrists were sore.

_Fucking hell, you smart bastard Tom Fletcher. _She rubbed sorely between her thighs. _I'll bloody put you into a coma. Playing fucking submission when I'm so pissed I would think I'm princess of Wales. _

She walked slowly down the corridor humming to herself, before pausing as she noticed that Julian's bedroom door was slightly open. She sighed, deciding that she would wake him to inform him that several of his china pieces were missing and that there had been several spliff's smoked.

She gasped at the sight of Julian and her mother sleeping in bed together. She was enwrapped in Julian's arms and Bron almost growled with temper; before biting her lip and nodding. She'd pestered Julian into this; and she knew her mother needed this.

She quietly shut the door; pondering if there were any more spliff's lying around. God knew she needed one at that point!


	21. Chapter 21: New Review

This review is set nearly a year after the tour, although shows the girls and how i've risen in prominence, specifically Gwen whose a new mum! The girl would be approx 19-20 now

**

* * *

**

**Rock in a hard place**

**Special review **

By  
Editor  
Of Curtis Lee

B. John

McFly's latest album cannot be called a triumph and neither can it be claimed to be _too _bad.

Dear God how it pains me to say that.

The album, a year in the making, was written whilst touring around the United Kingdom the previous June, with the Ex-journalists for Unseen, Kellie Sixties and Angie McDuff.

As a point of interest, I would like to tell you Kellie Sixties is currently sipping coffee in Paris, enjoying retirement and Angie is working with Annie Leibovitz in Rolling Stone.

But back to the album.

The same mixture of good fun 60's influenced pop songs and mid-tempo ballads are available here, but there's a touch of folk with this, as well as rock n roll.

The album opens with Danny roaring 'Penny Valentine' a 50's reminiscent number, although Danny's voice doesn't suit his attempts to be Little Richard, and he may be an 'opera star' but a rock n roll original this aien't.

Following is the melodic tune of a solo guitar, one of the few instrumentals ever penned by McFly. It is written by Dougie, in dedication to his new addition to the McFly home (Congratulations by the way, especially to Gwen for bringing Travis Poynter into the world). The song is called 'Tiny Feet' and it's perhaps because of the meaning behind the song; which makes it so catchy.

The song 'Saviour Sinead' has a more republican feeling; and has already been banned by the BBC. Always a fan-fucking-tastic way to start the year, by pissing off the beeb! The song has a fierce guitar and violin duel, which _shouldn't _work but does. The last strain of the violin is the most haunting, and I must compliment Mr. Judd for his talent on the drums.

The maturity in this album, surpasses the other albums, and I feel good just listening to it. The words mean something new, and brilliant. Although there are failings, this time my view is swayed by listening to the album as it was made and reporting. However, the subject matter within the songs are nothing new and the lyrics repetitive at times, but there's a quaint feeling to this band.

All in all… a good job… but not worthy of my redemption yet.

**Over all score: 4 ½ out of 5**


	22. 22: New sensations

**Sorry for the quickness of this chapter, not as flowing... but the end is FAST approaching**

**

* * *

**

**Twenty**

**Each morning our key to the world comes through the door  
More than often its just a comic, not much more  
Don't take it too serious - not many do  
Read between the lines and you'll find the truth**

**(C) News of the world: The Jam  
**

Angharad sighed in relief as she walked into her small flat, and rubbed at her face, dumping her suitcases into the flat.

For the last three months, while Bron had been listening to the recording of the album, Angharad had been in New York with Jann working out some negotiations with Rolling Stone's investors – who believed that the new magazine was cutting into Rolling Stones margin. Jann had physically barred Bron from the offices – knowing her temper was too close to the mark for her mindet.

She smiled and looked around the £1 million pound apartment, Jann had bought them. It had been a good year since the two had began working proudly on Curtis Lee, and had began living full time in London. She smiled, she'd rung Danny from New York Airport and he'd been chuffed to bits. She hadnt been able to contact Bronwen, although she'd second-guessed that Bron was luncheoning with her old friend Mick Jagger and was going to be in the office that afternoon.

The photographs on the wall displayed the two as they had matured, as well as a photograph of Jenn, Julian, Jane, Jann, Julie, Bronwen and Angharad sitting in Italy, where Julian and Jenn had moved to. Angharad sighed and threw down her coat, pressing the button to the answering machine.

"You have 309 messages," Angy growled at the sound of the cheery tone of the woman speaker, Bron had very little trust for anything modern. In fact, she used an out-of-date tape cassette to interview, which Angy herself had tried destroying – but had determined it would survive a nuclear bomb like a cockroach. 'Message 309....'

"Hey, Angy it's Bron here... I know you're probably pissed off with me not doing the messages. Truth is I havent had the time, so I'm sorry. Anyway' there was a long pause. 'If you notice the flat's very tidy... that's because three weeks ago, I moved into Tom's townhouse, because well... he asked me to... and I said... well you know what I bloody said. I didnt't tell you over the phone because it was easier and I wanted to see you... but then I decided you'd be pissed so I stayed away.... anyway, see you back in the offices and welcome back to England!'

Angy let out a low growl of temper, before picking up her keys and preparing to exit, mentally promisng herself she was going to kill her best friend.

It was good to be home.

**

"Hello sweetheart!"

Bron sat in her offices, smiling as she watched Travis Poynter being bounced happily on Danny's lap. She could see an almost-fatherly pride on his face, and Bron shook her head.

"Bronwen John?!" Bron glanced upwards to see Angharad entering, and she smiled gregariously. 'You left our apartment, in...'

"Sinead has been living there!" Bron cut in, waggling her fingers at Travis who's attention was on her. 'Anyway; you're boyfriend is there see him.'

Angy glared at Bron, before bursting into a smile, and embracing her old friend. Bron laughed into the taller girls shoulder. 'New York was brilliant.'

"I'm glad to hear it," Bron smirked. 'Jann told me about the suits... how was the city?'

"Good. Seen your aunty Carol. God Bron, she doesnt look a day over 40!"

"Laser surgery on the dribs in her skin," Bron replied. She looked at Danny before nodding. 'Sinead's thinking of leasing the flat off of you.'

"Why doesn't Sinead tell me this;" Angharad smirked, turning to her.

"Because Danny wants you to move in with him properly. Face it Angy, you spend more time with Danny than in our flat... its not worth the effort." Bron rubbed in between her eyes. 'Plus Sinead keeps thngs tidier than us.'

"Very true;" Angharad chuckled, gently. 'Do you need me?'

"Would Danny be here if I did?" Bron smirked, walking through to rescue Travis and lifted him up. 'You have a nice day out.'

Danny smiled as they walked along the streets of Camden. He took Angy's baker cap and tilted it lightly over her eyes, earning him and indignant growl and slap on the arm.

"I love you sunshine," he sung loudly, earning the attention of passerby's as they walked through the crowds. The staring eyes made Angy blush.

"I love you too," she hissed, jabbing him sharply in the ribs. Danny 'oofed' and doubled over as the air left his lungs but a grin curled around the corners of his mouth. 'Just shut up you idiot. Everyone's staring!'

"They'll be staring more in a minute," he knelt down. 'Angy will you marry me?'

Her eyes widened and time seemed to slow. The people around them had stopped to watch and were muttering lightly as they waited for the answer. They were mere background noise and had ceased to exist, she and Danny could only see one another.

She met his eyes and saw the sincere love and the fear of rejection there. She smiled and tears trickled down her cheeks. She threw her arms around him, and she shrieked: 'Yes! Yes of course I will!'

He laughed and put his arms around her and lifted her as he stood. He swung her around to the applause of the gathered audience. Once he was done dizzying her, he slipped the ring onto her finger and burst into the brightest smile available.

Bron was in her office when Angy finally headed back to Curtis Lee's offices.

She was staring out over London with a bitter smile, marring her petite face. She kicked the seat as Angy came in, but didn't meet Angy's gaze. She merely threw herself into her seat and scooped up a newspaper.

"I hear congratulations are in order," she didn't even look up, and obviously didn't notice Angy's confused expression. 'I just got rung by the Sun, the mirror and the times to confirm it. When the sun rung I thought bull… mirror I slightly believed and times I knew it was a fact!'

Angy stared at Bron in mild surprise. 'Sorry Bron.'

"Don't apologise!" Bron flicked her hand in Angy's general direction, before sighing. 'Julian, just rung the offices. Mum's ill in Italy.'

"With?"

"Sickness," Bron sighed, and rubbed at her eyes. 'I'm waiting for him to phone back… he's managed to blackmail her into going to the doctors.'

"Good," Angy held out her hand, and Bron let out a low whistle. 'Nice isn't it.'

"Congratulations, I'm never getting married," Bron asserted. 'No way.'

"No way?" Angharad asked gently. 'Why not?'

"Angharad, you've been in Manhattan for the best part of three months… me and Tom have moved in together… that's basically marriage!" Bronwen replied shortly.

Angy's response was cut off by the sudden ringing of the phone, and Bron snatched up the handset. Angy settled for picking up the latest copy of _Rolling Stone_.

"Hello? Jules? Yeah… how is…." She broke off. 'Uh-huh? No! Yes?! Are they… oh Jules bach don't cry now." Angy looked up. "Yeah… I'll ring you when I get home tonight. I promise you sweetheart. Yeah … I know. Push it forward huh? Yeah… thanks for the update.'

Bronwen came off the phone, her fingers twitching and a slight tic under her right eye. Angharad looked up from her paper with a frown.

"What's wrong?"

Bron sank down next to Angy, tears trickling down her cheeks. 'Mum's found out what's wrong with her.'

Angharad reached out and clutched at Bron's hand, twining their fingers. 'And?'

"God Angy, she's fifty three," Bron sobbed. 'And Julian was crying on the phone… I mean what am I supposed to say?'

Angharad swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Frantic, she asked, 'What's wrong with her Bron?'

"She's up the duff!" Bron's voice broke at the revelation. 'She's four months pregnant!'

Angharad slumped back, eyes closed as relief and dread in equal measure formed a knot in her stomach. 'Christ.'

"Yeah I'm going to be a big sister, to a _Lennon_," Bron's tears were less erratic now. 'Fuck… what do you think?'

"I… I don't know," Angharad bit her lip and tugged on Bron's fingers. When redrimmed eyes met hers, she gave a small smile. 'You.'

"Ha, ha," Bron offered, nervously. 'I mean… it's weird… I mean… dad… ugh,' a fresh bout of tears started as she thought of her father. 'Oh dear God, I'm scared.'

Angharad nodded. 'I know.'

A sudden bout of anger flickered through Bron's eyes, as she considered the consequences.

"I mean what if they forget me? I mean this is the love of each others' lives first child. Not to mention the first Lennon Grandchild. I mean they should forget me! I mean look at me! What am I?" Bronwen settled back in her seat. 'A useless journalist.'

"Stop it Bron!" Angharad snapped. Bron turned to look at her photographer friend in her shock. 'You're just as important as the new baby. You may not be a Lennon, but you are a wonderful person, who is brilliant in her own right!' Angharad settled back and curled close to the shorter. Quietly she murmured, 'No more self-pity. The two of you will be close and everything will work out fine.'

"Julian, offered to adopt me while you were away," Bron said, looking at Angy wryly. Angy stared at her. 'I turned him away, even though he's been a better father to me in the last year than my own dad tended to be. I feel so sick that I was horrible to him! I don't even know why!'

Angy shrugged. 'It's understandable but you should apologise. He's just trying to do best by you.'

"Mmm," Bron chewed on her lip thoughtfully. 'Think I should become a Lennon?'

"Up to you. I can't decide for you, but do you want to lose a link to your father?'

Bron considered. 'I could keep my surname, and then combine.' She suddenly broke into a grin. 'Hey, if I keep my surname, then I'd be Bronwen John-Lennon.'

Angy smiled. 'Yeah the name suits you.'

"Come on, lets tell the world Miss Jones."

"Good idea Miss. John-Lennon,"

"Fuck off."


	23. 23: Plotting and a planning!

**_This chappie is set a couple of weeks after as well as a hint. _**

**_  
Sorry for it being a skippy chapter. But it's the best i can do... next thing... THE WEDDING!_**

**

* * *

**

**Twenty one**

**How do you think I'm going to get along,  
without you, when you're gone  
You took me for everything that I had,  
and kicked me out on my own**

**Another one bites the dust: © Queen**

"Did you get the invitations all sent out?"

"Mm-hm."

"Reserve the ballroom?"

"Yes."

"Contact the church?"

"Of course."

"What about the food? Has everyone RSVP'd about that? Because-"

"Angharad!" Bron looked ready to slap Angharad, but instead she put her hands gently on her shoulders. "You need to calm down. The wedding is a month away."

"Oh my God," whined Angharad , "the wedding's a month away! Too soon! If anything goes wrong, I'll die."

"Nothing is going to go wrong. Would I honestly let something go wrong?"

Angharad let the question slide, and sat up next to Bron. The two were waiting for Bron's interviewee, Sir Paul McCartney, although Angharad knew the lateness of the interviewee was cutting into Bron's personal time.

"I thought you were meant to be meeting your mother and Jules?" Angharad asked, smiling at the thought of Julian and Jenn coming home to Great Britain. She knew Julian and Jenn had moved into their ten bedrooms Holland Park Townhouse; due to Jenn wanting to bring her son or daughter up in Britain. 'You know for dinner?'

"And Cyn… but I want to interview Sir Paul." Bron said, sighing. 'I hope he comes now.'

"Well… we can still arrange the wedding while we're waiting?" Bron groaned; as Angharad picked up her notebook to look through it. 'We don't need a band?'

"Why not?" Bronwen pinched in between her nose. 'We need one?'

"No we don't;" Angy snorted through her nose. 'I happen to be dating a musician, as are you my old friend.'

"Shut it!" Bron sighed, before beginning her rant. 'It's like hiring the Beatles for your reception. Two are dead, it won't be the same will it? Without Danny it'll be crap. It's tradition for the bride and groom to dance the first dance…'

As Bron's explanation and rant continued, Angy noticed a respectful silence echoing through the offices. The hush reserved for journalists like Jann and people like Mick Jagger.

Paul McCartney was walking down the corridor towards the two, flanked by his daughter, and a bodyguard whom personified the words 'brick' and 'shithouse.'

Bron, however, was much too busy ranting about her perspective brother/sister and Angy's wedding to pay the hush any mind.

"And…" Paul opened his mouth to introduce himself, although he had been interviewed by Bronwen twice before. 'Hush!' Bron held up her hand. 'I'm nearly finished with this rant! It's bloody crap!!!! You may introduce yourself now Paul.'

Paul, used to Bron's oddities, shook his head. 'Hello again; Miss…' Bron turned to him properly, smiling firmly. 'John?'

"That's the surname," Bron grinned. Paul, however seemed a little shaken. 'Paul? What's wrong?'

"You reminded me all-too-much of John then," Paul shook his head, before smiling. 'Same smile… how's your mother now?'

"She's alright." Bron grinned gently. 'I'm meant to be meeting her…. But it's all good in the end.'

The interview went relatively well. Paul, being marginally surprised at Bron's unusual lack of interest in his work within the Beatles whilst Mary had made arrangements with Angy to photograph her wedding. The so-called brick shithouse was acting Macho with Dinger, who had come to see Bron.

As Bron finished the interview, she spotted Julian jogging into the offices. Slowly she sighed, and twiddled her hair around her fingers. Paul gave his 'nephew' a wave.

"Bloody hell…" Bron muttered as he came in. Paul chuckled mirthlessly. 'What do you want?'

"You do realise my own mild-mannered mother threatened to shoot you?" Julian said. He raised his hand to Bron to silence her. 'And your mothers telling me to tell you; to never do that to her again.'

Angy looked at Sir Paul, who was looking thoroughly amused at the small argument going on between stepfather and daughter. She realised that the two had the same familiar nose, and around the eyes there was a common wisdom.

"Are you sure you two aren't real daughter and father?" teased Mary, earning her reproachful look off of both Julian and Bron.

"Shut up."

**

The next few weeks flew by, much to the dislike of Angharad. Bronwen, Gwen and Angharad had been named head bridesmaids, while Sinead had managed to wrangle Bron's old minister, whilst living in Ireland, Mr. McCarthy.

The caterer, however, was less compliant.

"I told you, I just want fairly simple, healthy dishes! Nothing too extravagant!" Angharad reminded the chef with an almost pleading tone in her voice. "And nothing fried!"

The Chef huffed and spun around. "I cannot work under these conditions! This… this is ridiculous! Nothing extravagant! Hah! You're marrying—"

"A human being! Now, then! I'm telling you, I can get me mum to do it for free." The chef twitched his moustache. "You'll have an excellent reference. I mean, who doesn't want a caterer employed by a _rock star_?" The Chef's eyes brightened. "Think of the publicity and the money you'll pull in. All you need to do is stick to my menu and my recipes, and everything should be fine."

The Chef put on a show. "Oh, if I must!" He swept his hand over his eyes dramatically, to hide the dollar signs currently dancing in them. "But perhaps, Mrs. Jones…"

"Miss Locke. I'm not married yet."

"Miss Locke… a little bit more….?"

"Here, yeh swine," Angharad pushed a few bills into the man's hand. He smiled and tucked it in his pocket.

"Consider it done, ma'am!" He bowed with a flourish.

Angharad rolled her eyes and walked out of the shop. She still had to call Julian and Jenn to see if they would be so kind as to give her room and board.

Julian was standing in the kitchen, chatting to Tom when Angharad arrived. She smiled as Julian affectionately showed Bronwen as a child to Tom, who laughed richly. Angharad grinned, she was relieved to note that Bronwen's previous fears of being outshone by the new Lennon baby, were unfounded. Julian loved her like his own.

"Julian, can I be a nuisance to you?" Angharad asked as she entered.

Julian quirked an eyebrow, from showing Bronwen sitting at the age of six in a paddling pool. 'You normally are a nuisance to me. What can I do you for/'

"I need a place to stay starting tomorrow at least," Angharad leaned forward. "You know, Danny is getting a bit… excited about the honeymoon to say the least. (Tom snorted into his tea at this point) And I'm trying to keep it a bit traditional if I can."

Julian laughed. "Sure. But did you ask Bron... I mean…"

"She's sick of me!" Angharad smirked. 'She's hiding from me in Curtis Lee, as we speak.'

"Weddings do have that profound effect on Bron;" Tom smirked. He sipped at his tea. 'You should see her if I mention getting married to her. It's hysterical!'

Julian lazily clipped his friend over the head. 'Behave yourself you little sod. And yes Angharad of course you can stay... if you can manage Jen's horrible pregnancy food?'

"With you I had a craving for banana, toast, tomato sauce and juice – all in one big sandwich." Cynthia came in smiling. She planted a fond kiss on both Tom and Angharad's lap, clipping Julian over her head lightly. 'How long until the wedding now?'

"Two weeks," Angy blushed at Cyn's surprised look. 'I know, we've only done a little wedding... keeps everyone happy.'

"Me and Johns was the same..." Cyn smiled thoughtfully.

"And look how that turned out." Tom waggled his eyebrows, only to be smacked over the head by both Cyn and Julian.


	24. 24: Dream wedding

**This bit is the wedding chapter!!! so I'm happy!**

This chapter has been rewritten for the purposes, because I wasn't fussed on it, there was weakness within it. 

* * *

**Twenty two**

**It's a nice day to start again  
It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again.  
(C) White wedding: Billy Idol**

Angharad woke up at seven thirty in the morning to get to her nine o'clock hair appointment. She was jittery as she stepped into the shower. Getting out, Angharad dressed in a light blue pyjama button-up and loose light blue pyjama bottoms. She was the bride. Angharad could get away with wearing anything.

She picked up Rebecca, Bron, Gwen and Sinead before heading to the hairdressers. Angharad sat in the chair nervously, describing precisely what she wanted done. The bride even included pictures. The hairdresser laughed and pushed the horn-rimmed glasses up on her nose. "Don't be so paranoid, girl! It'll be a breeze. Do you have a clip you want me to use?"

Angharad brought out a box and handed her the Red and silver butterfly. "This."

"A piece of work! A red wedding?"

"Yeah… My uh… fiancée has a thing for red."

"Passion, huh?" The woman smiled and laid the butterfly back in its box, and set the box on the counter. "Well, you're a lucky woman, girl. Many a woman would kill to marry who you're marrying."

"Yeah… you know, then?" The hairdresser pulled back Angharad's hair, scratching Angharad's scalp with her long nails. It felt nice.

"Are you kidding? You're incredibly publicized." She took a hair tie and secured the hair away from her face before reaching for the curling iron. 'You two look perfect together though.'

"Thank you," Angharad blushed.

Angharad's hair was curled in tight little ringlets that bounced cheerfully down her back. The woman clipped the butterfly in and secured a silver jewelled headband Angharad had procured. The woman also did Angharad's makeup beautifully. Light blush, black eyeliner on the upper lid, and red lipstick with a shimmer of gloss. Angharad nearly hugged the woman, but resisted, for fear of mussing anything. "My name is Bryony, by the way." Bryony stuck out her hand and shook Angharad's. "Have fun, there."

"I'll try…" Angharad laughed. Sinead and Bron left with the bride. They went to the chapel to get ready. Angharad was incredibly nervous about mussing some of her makeup, especially since she had forgotten about the necessity of pulling the blasted dress over her head. They worked the dress on slowly, managing to get it on her just right. Angharad's family became too emotional, and began to cry when they saw Angharad in her dress.

Angharad nearly started crying as well, but managed not to. Julie gently put Angharad's jewellery on her and secured the veil in her hair. The ceremony was supposed to start at noon. It was eleven thirty now. Angharad wondered idly, as her bridesmaids got ready, what Danny was doing.

"Julian is my tie tidy?"

Danny was pacing anxiously, while Julian tidied his tie. Tom, who was helping Danny's sister, Vicky, tidy up little things around the flat.

"Have you got the rings Tom?" Danny enquired.

"For the last bleedin' time Danny YES!" Tom stuck his head out from where he was helping himself to a glass of water. 'If you didn't need as best man I'd bloody thump you out!'

"It's got to be perfect though," Danny returned to pacing, running his hands through his hair.

"Danny breathe," Tom smiled as he came through. 'Now calm down. Angharad's probably as nervous as you,'

"I just want to make everything perfect for her." Danny smiled tiredly.

"You have," Tom reassured him. 'You're the man she loves most in the world and you're getting married.'

"Yeah, but sometimes she's too good for me…" Danny replied, running his fingers through his hair.

"No she's not… you are equals…" he sighed. 'Now come on, we've got to get to the wedding… otherwise you'll be the bride!'

They had forgotten the garter, so Julie was elected to pull the light blue and white garter up Angharad's thigh under the umpteen layers of tulle that made up her skirts. "Why all the skirts??"

"It's what I wanted, mum."

"Well, you could have done something easier, at least."

"Does that qualify as something blue?" Bron queried. She was sitting on a counter and swinging her legs so the sleek red dress glimmered in the light

"Yes, it does, sweetie."

"Bronwen, get off that counter, you're gonna get power on your arse,' Angharad commanded lightly. Bron slid off gently and brushed her rump off just in case.

The world carried on in mayhem for Angharad and Danny; speeding up from the moment they left their respective homes for the moment... until Angharad realised what was wrong with time. Soon enough Angharad realised why... the moment wouldn't still until Angharad found the moment. And that moment was while she was waiting in the church for the wedding march.

The wedding march played. Martyn took his daughter's hand in his arm in his hand and proceeded to walk her down the aisle. Angharad clenched her jaw to keep her lip from trembling. Angharad glanced up and at Danny. Danny's brown eyes were glistening with tears. His smile was the largest she had ever seen it, and by far the most genuine. Angharad smiled and tried her hardest not to choke up as well.

The aisle ended. Angharad had not tripped or caught her hem or anything of the sort. Martyn took her hand in his. Angharad's green eyes met Danny's brown eyes. The officiate spoke.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" Martyn smiled at his daughter, then at Danny, and then looked at the officiate and opened his mouth without skipping a beat. "I'm only lending. He can't keep her forever." And with that said, he placed Angharad's hand in Danny's. Harry sniggered. Charlotte smacked him almost unnoticeably.

Danny and Angharad turned, now in their own little world. The officiate spoke, his voice carrying to the people furthest in the back. "Welcome. We are gathered here today…" Angharad clutched her bouquet tightly in her hands, acting as though it were a lifeline. "I would ask the couple to please join their right hands." The two snapped out of their world and did as they were told.

It was now time to take their stand.

***  
The reception was held in a large ballroom. Tom being the best man of the ceremony, stood nervously and smiled.

"When Danny asked me to be his best man, at first I was over the moon, firstly that he was going to marry the woman that he loves, and secondly that he had asked me to be his best man. Then a few pints later, it dawned on me. The speech. Choking on my pint at the realisation that I would have to stand up and talk in front of his family and closest friends, I started shaking and told him that I didn't think that I could do it. Then he reassured me, he said, "all you have got to do is stand up, look a little idiotic, tell a few jokes and be confident." Taking this on board, here I am…"

The room clapped appreciatively. "Firstly a few thank-you's I have been asked to make. Firstly, to all who have helped in the service, and this lovely party. Whether you have brought food, or helped decorate this place, or just come to support the happy couple, thank you. Secondly to the bridesmaids, you have done a magnificent job helping the bride today, and you all look amazing, so a big thanks to you too. Finally Danny would like me to thank his beautiful new wife for turning up today. I saw him this morning when he was worrying, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He has asked me to tell you how happy you have made him by becoming his wife, something that I am sure he will go into in more detail in his speech, but still, thank you."

'Now, I have known Danny for too many years now. I know all his little habits and how annoying he can become after a few pints, just a little warning to you all there! But Danny has helped me through some hard times over the duration of our friendship. He has always been there and supported me, something that I am sure he will do for his beautiful new wife, Angharad," Angharad blushed appreciatively.

"Only a few short years back, we were nuts friends. I have been asked to keep the story about Danny clean, and to try not to embarrass him too much. But there have been numerous times I have laughed until I cried at Danny. As some of you will know, he is always up for a laugh, and loves to live life to the max. I remember when we were hitch-hiking to Wales. No money in our pocket just a pair of idiotic rock stars, who didn't want to be recognised by any rabid fans. So we ended up kipping out on the pavilion in some dreary little welsh town with rain pouring down on us," All the room began to chuckle, whilst Danny shook his head. 'Then Danny convinced himself he'd caught pneumonia and we ended up hitching a ride with a lorry driver… and Danny and me were taking turns on the batteries… then all of a sudden smoke started coming from his backside and he let out a howl and jumped up. His zip had connected with the battery…" The room began to roar, obviously this was an old story which had been told numerous times. 'So Angharad if you find a burn in the shape of his backside on his backside you know why.' Danny shook his fist menacingly at Tom, whilst Angharad wiped tears from her eyes.

"Before Danny met Angharad, he found it hard to talk to women. He could chat them up great, but when it came to more normal conversation, he found it harder. Until he met Angharad that was. Angharad has changed his life for the better. He has been happier, more energetic, easier to talk to and more responsible in the way he acts. These are just a few of the many ways Angharad has had a positive effect on Danny. I am sure he knows many more that we don't know about! Somebody once told me that Love can easily be affected by physical appearance. I am sure that when Angharad first saw Danny, there were no confusions. Danny told me that before Angharad he didn't believe in love at first sight, but after meeting his now wife, that has all changed. Finally, I would like to say another thank-you to everybody for coming and joining the newly married couple in their celebrations. And I am sure you will all agree they make a fantastic couple. Ladies and Gentlemen, please all join me in a toast. To the happy couple, long may their love last! Cheers!"

The room stood and clapped, raising their various glasses to their friends. Danny smiled and mouthed 'thank you' to Tom.

"And now for the wedding dance…" Danny whispered, and ran up onto the stage and smiled. The group congregated behind him; Dougie waggling his fingers at Travis and Gwen, who was bouncing their son on her lap. 'Um Hi, everyone… wow… feeling outstandingly nervous at the moment," Everyone laughed as the others set up behind him. 'This song… is one I wrote for Angharad… but is one which sums our relationship… it's called Beautiful woman.' The room clapped again and the band began to sing. Bron smiled, proudly, as she watched Sir Paul set up for his surprise set.

By some sort of miracle blackmail, Bronwen had managed to _persuade_ Sir Paul into playing for the wedding for free. He'd muttered about her being 'the daughter of a Lennon' before walking off murmuring.

Once finished, Danny leapt off the stage into Angharad's arms and kissing her gently. Paul began to sing 'Maybe I'm Amazed.' She also danced with Danny's dad, Alan, whilst being hugged fiercely by Kathy who announced proudly:  
'Welcome to the clan.'

Angharad laughed and ran over to Danny, whom dragged her over to the cake. Immediately photos began to be snapped, and Danny and her held the knife, pretending to cut it.

"Is that it done?" Danny shouted to Julian who nodded tersely. 'Good!' He sliced his bit and tenderly fed it to Angharad. Angharad, however, wasn't so lovely and merely shoved her slice into Danny's perfect baby face. 'Oops…'

Before he had time to react however, Charlotte and Gwen were tugging on her. 'Come on Angy, throw the bouquet.'

Danny laughed as he watched Angharad turn around, and folded his arms over his chest as he watched his now wife smile proudly.

"Ok, whoever this hits is getting married next," She shouted as she threw it hard over her shoulder. It landed in Bron's hands who shrieked in disgust and anger, before flinging it hard over her shoulder, smacking Tom in the face. Angharad laughed at the woman, before she felt Danny come behind her.

"Come on, let's go," He whispered. Danny placed his coat over Angharad's shoulders and ran out with her to the awaiting car. The photographers snapped but it didn't matter to the loved-up pair.

As soon as they came to their small flat, Danny heroically picked her up and laughed with her as he kicked open the door and carried her inside.

**


	25. 23: How cruel the world is, but hope!

_Twenty three_

_Born with the moon in Cancer  
Choose her a name she will answer to  
Call her Green and the winters cannot fade her  
Call her Green for the children who've made her  
Little Green, be a gypsy dancer_

_  
© Little green Joni Mitchell_

Bronwen John, hated being alone in the offices.

It was true that despite everything, she worked with varying people everyday and in everyway, but much to her own surprise, she discovered it bored her more not to have a constant companion compared to someone always with her.

At this moment, Tom was busily recording his new songs, so any thought of any sneaking out for illicit rendezvous was out whilst Angharad was much too busy _with _illicit activities with her new husband for Bron to dare ring her.

Which was why at this moment, she was listening to the loud resounding beat of 'Sympathy for the devil'.

"Got some taste at last then?" Bron turned in her seat slightly, to see Mick Jagger leaning on the door jamb. He looked good for his age, and in Bron's opinion, he shouldn't have lived as long. 'What are you doing?'

"Nothing… I think that's why I'm listening to this crap." He chuckled at her sense of humour, before entering properly and plonking himself comfortably on her chair. He crossed his legs, while Bron smirked.

Mick had always been there for her. When Jane had (by hook or by crook) managed to procure Bron from Peter's family when Jenn had been suffering from stress when Bron was barely 3 months old, it was him who often sat with her in NME, nursing her on his skinny knees and gently chatting to her. He still popped in to check on her, at her mother's bequest.

"What do you want?" she asked, putting her boots on the table and resting them there. Mick imitated her action, making her break her usual grin. 'Why are you trying to cheer me up?'

"I know you're worried about the fertility clinic." The smile vanished, but Mick raised his hand. 'Bronwen you can't lie to me. You know you cant.'

"I'm not going to…" Bron swung her boots off the table and stood. 'Why does everyone assume I'm worried about it?'

"Because I see it in those eyes of yours…" Mick sighed. He realised that Bron wasn't going to listen to him, years of experience warned her of this. 'Want to go out for coffee?'

"I thought you'd never ask."

**

Tom finished recording a few days later, and two days after the fertility clinic fiasco. Bron had thrown herself into her work, and Tom found himself ostracized from Bron's office for the moment.

Jogging lightly upstairs, he found the offices unusually quiet, although the usual form of Alexis, was sitting on the desk. He studied her with laconic laziness.

"Al, is Bron in?" He asked.

Alexis didn't even look up from what she was typing on her small laptop. 'She's free as well…'

"You don't need to tell me about that," Tom smiled as he walked through.

Bron was sitting head hunched over some work. She sighed, and put it aside, pinching the bridge in-between her nose. Tears threatened to slip from her watery eyes, and Bron chewed on her lip to resist the urge.

The doctors had brutally and coldly informed her and Tom, that although her reproductive organs were in full functioning order, the removal of the spleen had left her with a high risk of miscarriage in the early stages of pregnancy.

The news had left Bron cold and unable to cry, until now. Earlier that morning, she'd walked into her office, placed her hand in the open filing cabinet and slammed it shut three times, just to get herself to cry. The grief she felt for a child who would never arrive was overwhelming.

"Hey," she looked up into Tom's dark eyes, and he smiled weakly at her. 'What you doing?'

"Kitty's adopted, and she was showing me…" Bron bit her lip in thought. 'Well… I know it's daft….'

"No," Tom walked over and planted a firm kiss on her lips. 'What were you going to do?'

"I was going to suggest going to see this place," Bron held up a photograph. 'It's of this adoption agency… I wanted to have a look and see if I could write an article on it…'

"I don't mind," Tom kissed her on the cheek.

The adoption agency, was exactly, how Bron imagined it. The loudness of shouting children and laughter. She smiled, as she followed the head of the agency, Mrs. Taylor, down the corridors.

"As you can clearly see," The woman dodged aside as a small child hurtled through, and Bron smiled at the obvious affection the woman had for these kids. Tom hung back chatting to some teenagers, who were doing work experience here. 'Well hello?'

Bron turned to see a young nurse, holding a small child in her arms, who was wailing rigorously. Bron smiled at the little one; which the Nurse obviously noted and placed the child in her arms.

"I'm…" the baby miraculously stopped crying, as Bron looked at it. The pink defined it as a girl, and Bron smiled at it. 'Have you got a seat?'

Mrs. Taylor laughed and nodded, before directing Bron to a seat. Bron sat, nursing the little one and chuckling as it felt her hands. Tom watched idly from the doorway. Tears burned in his eyes; and he shook his head. She rocked the little one.

"How old is she?"

"Only four months... no one seems to want her, because she's a buy one get one free."

"Buy one get one free?" enquired Tom.

"Twin; she's got a twin brother called Paul."

Bron smiled at Tom and winked, although she didn't properly turn her attention to him. She merely giggled at the little one. 'What's her name?'

"Jude."

Later on, Tom sat in bed, quietly reading over some paperwork for recording, although his mind couldn't have been more distanced from this if he had tried. Sighing he put aside the paperwork, turning slightly to look outside.

"Something wrong?" Bron asked, as she entered the bedroom.

"My back is killing me," he complained to her, although this truly didn't show what he was concerned about. Bron furrowed her eyebrows, knowing this, as she left the room once more.

"Then take off your shirt and I'll give you a nice massage. I'm sure you could use it."

Tom unbuttoned his shirt. It really did sound alluring, the massage did. "Alright then..." he sighed as he manoeuvred into position.

Bron came out in a few minutes, wearing a fine red Egyptian cotton robe, which draped elegantly on her frame. Tom was lying on his stomach, and couldn't see, but when he did figure out what she was really after, he warmed up to the idea immediately.

It proved to be an interesting night, to say the least.

"You know after having a fantastic sex," Bron whispered. 'Do you ever think what's the point?'

Tom shrugged next to her, sitting up and pulling her close to him. 'Sometimes why?'

"Because the point of sex is to have kids..." Bron choked.

Tom merely kissed her head. 'We'll find a way Bron.'

"What about those twins?" Bron turned and looked up at him. 'We could adopt.'

Tom chuckled darkly. 'We'll see.'


	26. 24: Arguments and new lives

_**Finally the birth of Ioan! Only another 4-5 chapters to go!!! Not very happy with this still though, but I hope you enjoy it!**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**Twenty four**__**  
**__**Never forget who you are  
Little star  
Never forget how to dream  
Butterfly  
May angels protect you  
And sadness forget you  
Little star  
(C) Madonna: Little Star**_

Angharad smiled as she arrived back in the offices.

She'd spent the best part of a month in the Costa De Sol with Danny. The British weather had done nothing to dampen her spirits, although she seemed to be suffering from food poisoning from the previous meal on the flight.

"Afternoon;" she announced as she spotted Bron walking through the offices. Bron gave her a two fingered salute before pressing her fingers to her lips. 'No fond hello?'

"Not when I'm looking after the twins,"

Angy rushed forward to look at where Bron was watching. She'd had extensive photographs sent to her on holiday of the two. She let out a loud coo of perfect joy. Both had dark hair and brown eyes, although Tom was sitting with Paul on his lap, while Jude was sitting on Mick Jagger's knobbly knees.

"They are so sweet!" Angharad cooed, grinning at Bron. Bron smirked. 'Are you able to adopt?'

"Six months waiting," Bron explained, shrugging. She looked at Angy with the all-too-familiar smirk. 'How was the Costa De Sol?'

"Lovely and warm," Angharad grinned. 'How's your mother?'

"Nearly cooked,"

Angharad began to laugh.

Jen was now eight months pregnant with her second child, and subsequently driving both Bron and Julian mad, and both were praying that the child would be born soon. But when Angharad didn't receive a laugh back, she knew something was wrong.

"Ok, what's wrong with you?"

"With me? Nowt!" Bron snapped, pulled down the shutters closing off her children, although frowning at Angharad. 'Mum's accepted Julian's hand in marriage.'

"Ah... shouldn't you be happy?" Angharad teased.

Bron smirked. 'She told me when I'd had three double Cointrea's when this happened!" Angharad winced. 'Well funnily enough me and mam aren't talking after it.'

"Trust you to start rowing!" Angharad shook her head. 'Anyway, the holiday went well... managed to do some photography.'

"Send some to Jann, he needs some according to him," Bron picked up the phone and let out a low growl before turning the phone off. 'Bloody Jane again! She rung me six times in the last half hour.'

"Shouldn't you be concerned?" Angharad asked.

"No." Bron smirked. 'What can be so bloody important?'

_"Julian, I can't get hold of her!"_"And the Prince held the Princesses hand... on second thoughts," Bronwen ran her fingers through her hair, as she sat with the twins. 'I don't need to read you this namby-pamby rubbish. I can read you the Princess Bride....' she looked over at where the twins were in their crib, sleeping. 'On third thoughts you don't need me.'

"Oh hell!" Julian took a step back. 'For God's Sake! Jane would you mind if I kill your lovely niece?'

"Join the queue behind me."

Jogging lightly downstairs, she glanced at where Tom was sipping at some wine. 'Drinking so early?'

"Finished the album work," he leant over to kiss her lips. 'Twins asleep.'

"Yes Tomlin Rouge," Bron teased, kissing him back. At that moment the phone began to ring, and Bron growled in temper as she picked it up, noting the number belonged to Jane. 'What the fuck do you want?'

"Where the fuck are you?" Jane snapped, actually startling Bron.

"In the house, about to go to bed ridiculously early with my fantastic partner!" Tom kissed the nape of her neck for that comment. 'Why?'

"Because you're not. Your mothers in labour and she needs you."

Bron pushed the phone down and kissed Tom before bursting into laughter. 'I'm a big sister.'

London never flew by so quickly, as Bron drove like a maniac through the city. The familiar roads disappeared as she hit the 60 MPH around the dirty streets.

Bronwen skidded the 1967 Aston Martin DB7 Vantage into the hospital car park, before leaping out of the precious car and running into the hospital.

Much to her own surprise, Angharad was standing there looking around nervously. Bron frowned at her as she walked in.

"What're you doing here?" Bron asked, although it didn't sound as threatening as Angharad thought it would. 'I'm her daughter?'

"Oh shut it Bron, Julian rung me because he couldn't get through to you!"

"I was on my own with the twins!" Bron replied, as the two began to jog up the flights of stairs to the maternity ward. 'So I put my phone off.'

Angy nodded sympathetically.

As they came to the top floor, both were surprised to note Julian standing with Jane arguing the case against a rather large nurse. Bron jogged with Angharad forward.

"What's going on here?" Bron asked.

"Nurse won't let us through;"

The nurse continued to stand firm against the torrents of shouts.

"I'm the bairn's bloody father!" Julian was furiously arguing. 'My father missed my first being born and I'm sure as hell not missing this one!!!'

"Mr. Lennon we have a rather strict policy…" The nurse began.

Angharad let out a low growl. 'Look here missy Fraulein Needle-wielder,' Julian winced. 'You'll take all of us up to the bloody birthing room or I swear to God I'll put my foot so far up your arse that you'll need a bloody surgeon to extract it! GOT IT?!'

For some unusual reason, the nurse quickly backed down and relinquished the room number. The five raced onwards and upwards – only to be met outside by Jenn who was pursuing another argument with the nurse.

"I am not ready to have this baby!!! I need my husband and daughter,"

"This baby isn't waiting…" The nurse growled, whilst Zak held Jenn's shoulder. 'You're being moved.'

"FINE! TRY IT MATEY! BUT I'M KEEPING THESE LEGS CLOSED UNTIL JULIAN AND BRONWEN GET HERE!"

"If you had done that action eight months ago, we wouldn't be in this position," Zak stated wryly.

"We're here," Julian announced, rushing to her side and kissing her head. 'I'm here. Sorry love…'

"Where are the kids?" Jenn asked, looking about desperately. 'They are ok?'

"I'm here mum," Bron assured her mother, reaching over and hugging her. 'I'm sorry, I was checking on the twins and I was pissed off...'

"It's alright.... but love can we talk about this later?" Jenn asked wincing in pain. 'Please.'

"Sorry mum!"

The two nodded before the doctor came through and the others were ushered out to the waiting room – save for Jane.

"Tenner says she has it before 12…" Julian offered, immediately earning him three nervous laughs.

By 10 p.m. the waiting room office was suffused in smoke. Half-empty Chinese take-out boxes littered the table and desk. Bronwen was sprawled on the floor with her feet up on the couch while Zak sat with a notebook writing down little notes, Angharad replenished on her nicotine intake and Julian lounged on his back waiting.

"Mr. Lennon?"

"Yes!" All four leapt up, startling the nurse slightly.

"You have a fine baby boy,"

***

Ioan Glyndwr Lennon was a plump little baby, with a mop of dark hair which glowed when he was put into the light.

Bron held her new brother with open-mouthed awe. 'Hello bruv, I've been waiting for you!'

Angy smiled as Bron handed him to her. She cooed at the baby, eyes sparkling as the baby reached out and tugged on a lock of her hair. 'He's gorgeous!' she gushed. Bronwen chuckled.

"I could totally see you as a mother," Bron grinned, leaning in to kiss the baby soft cheek. Ioan burbled happily at the treatment.

"And you'll be a great big sister," Angharad smiled, as she handed the small mite back to his big sister. 'Oh Jenn he's lovely.'

"Looks like his father," Jenn said, shaking her head. Julian was perched next to her in bed, his left leg swinging off it while he hugged his partner. 'Ioan… how many John's are in your family?'

"My dad. Me, Sean… and Bron with her surname," Julian winked at Bron.

Bron crossed her eyes at Julian before taking her brother back of him. Bron studied him suddenly, and smirked. 'Weird... he's got my eyes... but Julian's...'

"I've always said Bron had Lennon eyes," Jane teased, before looking at Jenn with a smile. 'So Bron's adjusted to the news of you getting married?'

Bron nuzzled Ioan's head and kissed it lovingly. 'Maybe.'


	27. It is time to move on

Twenty five

There's no mistake, I smell that smell  
It's that time of year again, I can taste the air  
The clocks go back, railway track  
Something blocks the line again  
And the train runs late for the first time  
Today  
(C) Local boy in the photograph: Stereophonics

On the 13th October, 4 days after Ioan's birth, 2 days after his homecoming, the day of the engagement party of Julian and Jenn, and the day of Bron's twenty-first birthday, the birthday girl vanished from the luxury Brecon cottage where Julian and Jenn lived.

Tom had awoken with empty arms and had originally thought nothing of it, until Angy mentioned at breakfast that Bron had been reminiscing sorrowfully about her father late into the evening. She'd left the twins in the safety of the nursery, and Angy felt blind panic take over her.

It was then Julian stepped in.

Number 2, Roman Road, was one of those places no one liked to visit. Not even the people who had grown up there.

It was where Peter John had hung himself three years previously.

Julian Lennon stepped off of his motorbike, to be greeted with a most despondent sight. Sylvia was walking towards him, tears in her eyes although malicious intent marred her face.

Sylvia was a big woman, although she liked to look, and walk as if she was eternally on eggshells, while she also made frail motions with a slightly swollen hand. She was at this moment wearing a bulky burgundy coat which was a present from her late lamented son. Her claim to fame was she had found him and she never stopped haunting Bron and Jenn with that fact. She reminded Julian of Jabba the Hutt without the redeeming looks.

"Morning," he said, shaking his hair loose of the helmet. Tom jumped off the bike and looked between the two. 'Where is she?'

"She went into the shed, and took a rope," Sylvia wailed. Tom made to move but Julian caught hold of his lapels. 'She's hung herself I know it.'

"Tom stay here," Julian instructed, walking forward with firm Lennonesque strides.

Bronwen, as it happened, had prepared a noose and was sitting staring up at it. Her big brown eyes filled with blank concern. She didn't notice the male enter the shed, until he sat down next to her. She tilted her head slightly, studying the familiar features. He smiled slightly at her.

"Hey," he offered. 'Come here for the view.'

"Just wanted to see where he did it at last," Bron offered, bitterly popping gum. 'What could take his weight?'

"Ah right," Julian put his arm around her shoulder, and she snuggled into his heat for comfort. He nuzzled her hair fondly, planting a gentle kiss. 'I stood where dad was shot once for an hour trying to make sense of it all.'

"At least you could see it." Bron said sadly. 'I just wanted to understand it. And I still can't.'

"You're not meant to. How'd you get here anyway?" Julian kissed her head once more. 'I didn't see the car.'

"Got Gwen to drop me off, she's due back in an hour," Bron replied, a small smile on her lips. 'Jules remember you offered that you could adopt me?'

Julian winced. He all-too-well remembered the four lettered speech she'd given him. 'Yeah?'

"Is it alright, if I accept the offer and apologise," Julian looked down into her face and she grinned at him. Something in her smile reminded him of himself at the age of seventeen, both nervous yet arrogant. 'I need a dad.'

Julian responded by hugging her. 'It's accepted. On both counts. I always wanted to be your dad.'

"I know that Jules," Bron whispered. The love in his embrace was unrivalled, even by Tom's standards. 'I know.'

"Come on," Julian pulled her to her feet. 'Let's go.'

Bron stepped into the sunlight, blinking as Julian guided her. She could see Sylvia, and she grimaced at the sight of her.

"Oh Jesus," she muttered, 'J- Dad ?'

"I got you," Julian assured her, before lifting her easily into her arms and carrying her like he had when she was nowt more than a child. He fondly remembered those days, when she'd adored seeing him and he could've imagined he was hers. Now here she was. She slipped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest, avoiding Tom's relieved gaze as well as Sylvia's cries.

"Bronwen! Oh Bron-" Sylvia got no closer to her. Julian gave her a look, which would've rivalled his fathers glare. 'She's my grandchild.'

"And my adopted daughter, now step away you old crone before I sue," Julian hissed. 'Tom, get a lift with Gwen. I'll take Madame home.'

**

Jenn was pacing, all the while holding Ioan. Angy watched her anxious walk. 'He's been bloody gone ages! Is he back yet?'

"Not yet Jenn," Angharad murmured, cradling a cup of tea in her hands as she watched the older woman's pacing. 'But calm down, your upsetting Ioan.'

Jenn noticed for the first time that Ioan was grizzling, his face red and scrunched with agitation.

"Gods, I'm sorry sweetheart," she cradled him close, her voice soothing. Angharad smiled and sipped from her tea. 'Bloody Bronwen, yes Ioan. Angharad did he say where he was going? And what did Bron have to say this morning?'

"She didn't tell me anything this morning," Angharad said a little sadly. 'Jules said he had an idea. Took Tom with him on the search. Danny's gone to see Chris,'  
Jenn sighed and glanced out of the window, tightening her hold on Ioan when the driveway remained empty.

About twenty minutes later, a familiar roar of a motorbike echoed up the drive. Jenn looked up to see her fiancé and daughter making their way up the drive. They were talking, Julian's eyes squinted with concern.

"Angy," Angharad looked startled on hearing her nickname from the elder woman. 'You talk to her. You can make her see sense. Jules I can talk to.'

*

"Are you alright to go in?" Julian asked, reassuringly rubbing Bron's arm.

"Yeah," Bron smiled, before giving the elder an impromptu hug. 'I love you dad.'  
Julian looked choked by this blatant display of affection before grinning and heading inside ahead of her. 'Jenn! We're back!'

Bron took a breath and headed inside behind him. She froze on seeing Angy's glare. 'Why do I feel like I'm married?'

Angharad smacked her over the back of the head as a response, before turning on her heel. She paused in the doorway and growled. 'Come with me.'

Rubbing the back of her neck nervously, Bronwen followed slowly, stepping through into the living room. Angharad was perched on the settee, sipping viciously from her now cold cup of tea. She gestured to an armchair and hissed, 'Sit down!'  
Bron plopped down and licked her lip. Her fingers tangled nervously under Angy's glare. 'Angy I-'

"Don't even," Angharad snapped. Her eyes narrowed. 'What the hell were you thinking?! You had me and your mother worried sick!'

"I dunno," Bron looked at Angy bitterly. 'Anyhow what right is it of yours to tell me off!"

"EVERY REASON!" Angharad snarled, hurling her cup. It smashed against the wall and littered the carpet with tiny shards. 'You left without a word! I sat here for hours looking after your frantic mother because I care for her and Jules,' she settled shaking fingers into her lap and Bron watched as tears filled her eyes. 'Christ, Bron.'

"I needed to think," Bron said, rubbing at her face. 'I dunno why, everything's wrong. Nothing's right. You're angry with me. I can't finish my story. Sylvia gave me a rope…'

"And that gives you the right to scare your mother and friends to death?!" Angharad asked swiping at a stray tear. 'I know your hurting, but for Gods Sake. At least think!"

"I'm sorry," Bron whispered, tears idly forming. 'But Angy, Sylvia,' her voice broke. 'She told me no one loved me. That if I hung myself everyone would understand.' Bron sobbed. 'Everything hurts me. And she didn't stop chanting that until I had the rope in my hand and shut the shed door.'

"It isn't just you hurting Bron," Angharad murmured. 'I know that this time is hurting you and Sylvia is a bitch. It isn't true that no one cares for you. You know it's not true.'

"That's the thing," Bron laughed mirthlessly. 'I know it. I just want to prove I'm wrong. I want to shout out _Look't me I'm fucked_.'

"Your going through a rough patch is all," Angharad whispered. 'But Bron you've got to promise… don't do something daft.'

"What ever do you mean?" Bron said crisply. Her eyes widened. 'Oh no, I wouldn't _**do **_it. I just took the rope I think to shut her up and to go away…. I don't need him. I've got Jules. But everything… what with Ioan being born, Tom and me adopting, then there's you and Danny married… Julian and mum _getting_ married… it's just piled on.'

"Why didn't you bloody tell me!" Angharad snapped. 'I could've done something.'

"You couldn't," Bron smirked, before settling back and rubbing at her eyes. 'I apologised to Jules by the way.'

"At last," Angharad muttered. 'You've been festering about that for too long… do you want to…'

"No, Julian and me talked about it," Bron stood. 'Now do you want a cup of tea… that's me version of the olive branch.'

Angharad laughed, glad to see more of the old Bron back. 'Yeah go on then.'

"DAD!" Bron shouted through. 'Any chance of a cuppa?!'

Julian walked through, towelling off his hands. 'Sure…' he froze on seeing the remains of the cup. 'That's my favourite cup.'

"Men don't have cups! They have mugs," Bron corrected. 'Why do you have a cup?!'

"Shut it," Julian said. 'I am mourning.'

"I don't note that you've turned into sunshine." Bron giggled at her own joke – whilst Julian shook his head at Angharad.

No wonder life was weird… yet wonderful.


	28. 28: New lives, and wedding rings

**This is the third chapter before the end ;) **

**Sorry about the ending which I myself, find a bit strangled... so I apologise for that. **

**

* * *

**

**Twentysix**

**Well I just heard the news today  
It seems my life is going to change  
I closed my eyes, begin to pray  
Then tears of joy stream down my face**

**© With arms wide open: Creed**

Only a month later, found Bron preparing nervously for the comfort of her mother's wedding, although Angharad recently had suffered with sickness, she associated everything that had been going on (loss of appetite, nausea, a bit of dizziness, intense fatigue) with the flu or some sort of other illness. However despite her sickness, she found that she was gaining weight, much to Bron's humour.

"You are never going to fit into Mum's bridesmaids dress if you carry on putting on weight,"

Bron ignored Angy's injured look as she sat cross-legged on her desk, reading over that weeks rough edition of Curtis Lee. She scooped up the phone and put it closer to herself.

"I can't help it. The weight keeps piling on!" Angy touched her stomach and winced, the hurt from Bron's teasing comment simmering low in her stomach. 'I've tried dieting. I want to look nice for your mothers wedding!'

"God, I'm kidding," Bron picked up the phone just as it began to screech. 'Yeah? Angy, it's Al do you want to confirm the photos?' Angy nodded. 'Right photographic content is confirmed as is the text side. See you.' She put the phone down, and looked at Angy curiously. 'Have you been ill for the last few days? Feeling a bit down and sick?'

Angy shrugged. 'A little, and there was no need for hurtful comments!" Bronwen stared in horror as her normally stoic best friend broke down in tears.

"Oh God!" Bron quickly jumped off the desk and kicked the door shut, to hide Angy from the curious eyes of the other journalists. 'You know I'm not good with crying hormonal married women!'

"I can't help it!" Angharad wailed, clutching at her stomach as great heaving sobs wracked her body. 'It happened earlier as well! When I couldn't find any sweets in the house!'

Bron bit her lip, in an attempt not to laugh. Instead her shoulders began to shake as she began to giggle. Angy stared before slowly joining in, soon the two girls were nearly hysterical with laughter. After they'd both had sufficient time to stop laughing, they both settled on Bron's sofa at the side of the room.

"Have you considered you could be pregnant?" Bron offered, picking up a few letters she hadn't read.

Angy, who had snagged Bron's coffee and had just taken a sip, spat it back out. She turned a shocked expression onto Bron, who was staring mournfully at the coffee stain on the carpet. 'I can't be pregnant!'

"Look," Bron snatched the coffee back off of her to prevent anymore spillages. 'I have an aunty who can get knocked up just by shaking my dear Uncle Chris's hand! Take it from me, you're preggers!'

Angy pressed her hand to her head suddenly pale. Bron sighed and pressed the coffee back into the younger girl's hand. 'Bloody hell.'

In the toilets of Curtis Lee, Angharad Jones and Bronwen John-Fletcher stood staring into the sink at the pregnancy test.

Bron looked at Angy with a wane smile. 'In thirty seconds we'll know if you're going to be a mummy.' She let out a low laugh. 'How do you feel?'

"Scared," Angy admitted, staring at the test still. Her lips tightened before relaxing. 'Christ, what's Danny gonna say?'

"He's probably going to faint," Bron smiled sadistically at that image. 'That's what Chris did when Little Chris was born. Why you so worried then?'

"Not worried as such," Angy shrugged, and slumped against the wall, the chill of the tiles seeping through her clothes and causing her to shiver. 'Just we haven't planned for this. I thought it would be a couple of years before we thought about having a baby. Now here I am two months after my wedding," she giggled and closed her eyes. 'And now I might be having one.'

Bron laughed and patted Angy soothingly on her shoulder. 'Life is what happens when your busy making other plans.' She sung to the old song. She waggled her eyebrows when Angy opened her eyes once more. Her friend rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Angy," Angy looked up to see Bron holding up the pregnancy test and revealing the thin blue line. 'Congratulations mummy.'

Angy grew pale and sank downwards, giving a feeble smile as she clutched at her stomach. 'Christ.'

***

"Yes mum, no mum I don't have an STI,"

Angy bit back a laugh as she watched Bronwen pace on the phone. The journalist's youthful face was flushed with temper, although she was maintaining peace and calm.

"Yes mum I'll ring you. Ta ra," Bron put the phone down and handed Angy a phone number on a sheet of paper. 'Mum's gynaecologist in London for the devil spawn she carries in her womb.'

"I thought that was you twenty odd years ago," Angy teased, Bron gave her a peace sign. 'Anyway what's she say?'

"Well she now thinks I have an STI," Bron rubbed at her face, ignoring Angy's laughter. 'So it looks like Travis Russell Poynter has a new play mate?'

Angy shrugged, although a hand fondled her stomach. 'I don't know how I feel though. In a few months I'll be a mum.'

"Be grateful," Bron warned, smiling. Her smile became fixed. 'No spleen, no natural kids…'

"People have had children after accidents Bron," Angy reassured her. 'And even if you can't, I'd imagine you and Tom will adopt the demon twins properly.'

Bron smirked at her friend optimism. 'True.' She smiled before reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a box. She passed it to Angy. 'Open it.'

Angy opened it gently, her mouth dropping at the sight of the ring. 'It's an engagement ring.'

"I did notice," Bron remarked. 'Tom asked me last night to marry him.'

"What did you say?"

Angy watched as Bron put the ring back in its box. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 'I told Tom I'd tell him when I felt ready to.' Bronwen stretched. 'I don't know how I feel. Anyway what about you and your impending arrival? When're you going to tell Danny?'

Angy swallowed and shrugged. 'God knows. When I gather the courage I suppose.'

"Courage?" Bron snorted through her nose – tossing the engagement ring and its box onto the table. 'You're pregnant! You should be celebrating. With your husband!'

"I'll tell him when I'm ready" Angy snapped, giving Bron's recycling bin a god kick. The clang of it against the metal echoed loudly in the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.

Bron rubbed gently at her wedding finger. 'I'm only trying to help.' She sighed. 'Look, he'll probably be overjoyed.'

"I'm not worried about that," Angy said softly, stroking her still flat stomach unconsciously. They both stopped their involuntary motions at the same time and laughed at the absurdity of the situation. 'God we're a pair of fools aren't we?'

"A right pair," Bron shook her head. 'Look I want to go home – Ding's been fixing the Aston, and I want to have a look. Why don't you go see Danny eh?'  
Angy gave a nod. 'Alright then.'

Angy came home to a dark house. She could see Danny sitting on the couch, an arm slung over his eyes, lips moving rapidly as he silently worked some sort of problem out in his head. Angy set down her belongings and unbundled from her cosy cocoon of thick, soft fabrics and ran her fingers through Danny's soft, chocolate locks.

Danny's lips stopped moving, instead pressing into a very thin line. Angy pursed her lips as she tilted her head to get a good look at Danny's face. Danny didn't let her see.

His arm flew out from its position over his eyes and pulled Angy over the back of the couch and onto him. Danny kissed her fervently; one hand wrapped around her waist to keep her there, the other moving to the hem of her shirt.

"Hey," she whispered once they'd broken free. 'I've got something to tell you.'

He leant back, a smile on his youthful face. 'What is it luv?'

"I'm having our baby," she whispered.

All colour went from Danny's face and he gently pushed her away so he could stand. He moved to the wall and leant against it. She stared, surprised at his expression.

He stared blatantly at her, with a small frown. 'So, you're pregnant?'

Angy bit her lip and nodded, searching Danny's face for any sign of what he was feeling. She couldn't read his blank expression and it sent chills down her spine.

"Well," he settled back against the wall. 'What do you want to do about it then?'

"I want to keep it." Angy gave a tentative smile, her heart on her sleeve. 'What about you?'

"Go see Bron for a bit luv," he replied, turning away. 'I need a bit of time to get used to this idea.'

"Danny!" He turned back at the quaver in her voice and felt a tug at his heart at the tears in her eyes. The urge to pull her into his arms was strong but the knowledge that a child – their child! – was growing inside her made his stomach roll. 'You can't just leave.'

"Angy please," he looked at her pleadingly. 'Let me just think about it… I've got to get used to it.'

And with that he went into his music room.

"Spanner,"

"There you go luv,"

Bron smiled as Tom knelt next to her and planted a tender kiss to her lips. She beamed and nuzzled his nose affectionately with hers.

"I love you," he whispered to her. 'Let's go inside… the twins are kipping.'

"I love you too," she replied, before kissing him gently. 'Now, go in! I want tea!'  
He laughed richly before heading inside, leaving Bron to kneel by her Aston to examine how Dinger had finished his work on her precious car. Angharad came racing up the drive.

Bron quickly stood. 'Hey!' she caught Angy in a hug, surprised to feel tears trickling onto her shoulders. 'What's wrong? Is it the baby? Or Danny?'

"There wasn't anything!" Angy choked, clutching at her friend desperately as though trying to anchor herself. Bron was shocked to feel tremors running through Angy's body. 'He was… indifferent almost. Like I hadn't told him we were having a baby'

Bron stroked her hand down Angy's back soothingly, making comforting noises as she shook. Anger left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. 'It's ok, Angy. It's ok. I'm sure he was just shocked.'

Angy shook her head and finally broke away. A sad smile curled on her lip and tears shimmered in her eyes. 'I know it is shocking news being told you're going to be a father. I can understand that. But there was nothing.' She wrapped her arms around her stomach and shivered. 'It actually chilled me.'

Bron sighed and rubbed at her face. A thought of smacking Danny gave her a brief smile, before she looked properly at her old friend. 'Angy, just go inside… ok I'll be right in behind you.'

Angy walked inside, still sniffling as she walked. Bronwen shut the door behind her, whilst Tom came through to question her.

"What's happened?"

"Angy's pregnant," Bron explained slowly. Tom's eyes widened. 'Now shush before you start. Danny doesn't seem happy about it.'

"Why?"

"Well I dunno," Bron replied. She rubbed at her face, instantly marring it with oil. 'Look I'm going to go up there and get him to see sense. You…'

"No," Tom pulled out a handkerchief and quickly wiped Bron's face. 'You stay here. I'll deal with Danny… I mean it!"

Bron smiled, before gently reaching up to kiss him. He smiled as she planted a tender chaste kiss to his lips. It felt foreign to him. He noted the ring box in her hand. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." She said, before entering the house.

**

Danny was sitting on the sofa, head in hands when Tom entered, using Bron's spare key. Danny looked up, a relieved smile flashing across his face.

"Hey," He flashed a grin, although he noted Tom's narrowed eyes. 'I take it she came to you?!'

"Yes," Tom snapped. 'For Christ's sake mate; what're you playing at you bloody sod?'

"Look I'm only Twenty six,"

"And Angharad is only twenty! Don't pull the age strip on me!" Tom snapped. 'And you can't be happy for the bloody girl?'

"Oh shut it Tom, you'll never know...." He broke off, realising what he was about to say. Tom chewed on his lip as he turned away. 'Sorry.'

"No you're right... I probably never will," Tom replied. 'But I know this much... I love my girl with all my heart and my twins. And you know what, no matter what happens I'd stay with her. I'd also be so happy if I had a little one _Properly _with her, because we'd be mixed into one little person. So get and apologise her!'

"But..." Danny pressed his head into his hands. 'I'm not ready.'

"No one ever is,"

Angharad was still crying when Danny arrived. Bron quickly scooped up the twins and abandoned the married couple in the kitchen.

He knelt down to her level. He brushed Angharad's hair out of her face and gently ran his thumb over her eye to rid it of the collecting tears. "Don't cry," He whispered. Angy looked at Danny reproachfully. Danny put his hands on her waist and pressed his head into her stomach.

Angy ran her hands through Danny's hair. They sat there silently, Angy massaging Danny's scalp and Danny with the side of his face against Angy's bulge. After about ten minutes, Danny broke a smile; the realisation that he was going to be a father was only now seeping in. "I'm going to be a _daddy_." Angy giggled.

Angy ran her hand across his forehead, pulling his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "You are… that, you are…" Danny kissed the bulge of Angy's stomach and rose his head to kiss her.

"You know, I was planning," Danny muttered against Angy's lips before kissing her again. "To stay mad at you for a few days," Kiss, "But I'm finding it increasingly difficult," Kiss, "When I know I'm going to be a daddy." Another kiss, "And the woman I'm trying so hard to stay mad at," Kiss, "Happens to be my pregnant wife."

"Whom you love dearly." Angy supplied with a smile before kissing Danny.

"Whom I love _dearly_." Danny smiled. Angy's stomach growled; she was entering the stage of perpetual hunger. "And whom I need to feed more often." Danny stood and pulled Angy to her feet. "Would you, dearest Sunshine of mine, like to go out for some Italian?"

"That, I would." Angy smiled. "Let's go."

And the world seemed fine once more

The next day, found Bronwen, Tom and the twins driving up from London to Gretna Green which was on the borders of Scotland, and the traditional elopement spots.

"Ah, Miss Jones?" The register asked, as she noted Paul McCartney entering with his eldest daughter Mary.

"John." Bron said slowly. She noted the staring eyes of the register. 'Sir Paul and Mary are acting as our witnesses.'

A matter of minutes later, Bronwen had slipped the ring on her finger, and in front of the smiling twins, had become Bronwen John-Fletcher. She glanced across at her new husband, before smiling.


	29. How I live now

_Twenty seven_

you're my life's one miracle  
everything I've done that's good  
and you break my heart with tenderness  
and I confess it's true  
I never knew a love like this 'til you  
(C) Celine Dion Miracle

_5 months later_

_John Charles Julian Lennon & Jennifer Bronwen John (nee Roberts) are proud to announce that their wedding will be held in Brecon Cathedral. Bronwen, if you are late you will DIE!_Bronwen chuckled as she put down the tea, and looked down at Angharad. The twenty year old was stroking her prominent bump with a smile.

"I can't believe your mum and Jules are getting married in three days time," Angharad sipped her tea. 'It's just wow.'

"MM," Bron grinned, although Angharad narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Ok why are you calling me here now?"

Bron smiled as she looked at Angy tearfully. 'We've been approved. We can adopt Jude and Paul properly!'

Angy squealed in delight, as Bron caught her in her arms. Tears dripped gratefully down Bron's cheeks as she thought of holding her precious twins in her arms. Permanently. She smiled at the small kick she felt in Angy's womb.

"Look't me!" she complained wiping her eyes. 'I'm as bad as Ioan now!'

"You have reason!" Angy laughed, gently wiping away Bron's tears. 'When do you get to keep them then?'

"Tom went to pick them up half an hour ago," Bron smiled, brushing some hair from her eyes. She swallowed in some air and grasped at the table. 'Shit.'

"You alright?" Angy raised an inquisitive eyebrow, as she helped Bron to her seat. 'You seem a little sick… not to mention your breath smells of puke.'

"I think Tom's casserole last night gave me food poisoning," Bron explained, as she picked up her sandwich. 'It's made me puke all day.'

Angy winced and put down her own sandwich. 'Ta for that Bron.'

"My pleasure," Bron sipped at her orange juice. 'So how's your own mite holding up? How many weeks to go?'

"Five," Angy smiled. 'We found out the sex, it's a boy...'

"That's pleasant," Bron said, finishing off her sandwich with a smile. 'Any…'

"William Lee Jones," she smirked. 'Don't worry, no embarrassing initials BJ.'

"It's BJF now," Bronwen corrected, standing only to go pale and rush to the sink. Angy quickly waddled to the sink to smooth Bron's dark hair from her face as she vomited consistently. 'Christ I'm going to kill Tom.' She managed during a brief interlude.

"Do you bother with contraception?" Angharad asked, suddenly. This however earned her a dirty look. 'What?'

"Don't you know that's rude to ask?"

"Bron you aren't essentially nice!"

"True, then no and yes." Bron pinched at the bridge of her nose. 'Tom wears... well... you know what sometimes. But as I'm nearly infertile, we don't bother.' Bron continued to vomit.

"Bron, to quote you three months ago," Angy said over her. 'Have you considered you could be pregnant?'

Bron's vomiting miraculously ceased. 'Impossible.' She muttered. 'That's a cruel trick Angy!'

"Bloody hell, why would I trick you?!" Angy exclaimed, looking hurt. "Besides it can happen. I told you that story about mam's friends Sharon and Joseph before."

Bron stared at her friend in surprise. 'Angy you heard those doctors!'

"They had a baby, didn't they?" Bron bit her lip as her friends words rang true.

"Angy?' The heavily pregnant woman stared at her in surprise. 'Think you can go down to boots with me and get me a test?'

Angy laughed and nodded. 'Course I can you daft bugger! I have some free time on my hands.'

"Come on then." Bron strode to the door and waited as Angy waddled over, hand clutching her stomach. "Christ, I hope I don't get as big as you! You can hardly walk."

"Shove off," Angy snapped playfully. "It's the beauty of motherhood. You just don't know what it feels like yet."

**

Bron stared at the pregnancy test before looking away. 'It's positive.' She looked at Angharad with a small smile. 'I'm bloody pregnant.'  
"Ah, see I'm mystical," Angharad grinned. 'When're you going to tell Tom?'

"After I've been to mum's gynaecologist, I'll tell him." Bron chewed on her lip. 'If I'm still in my first trimester, then there's a high chance no baby.'

Angy merely put her hand on her friends shoulder in reassurance.

But any thoughts of pregnancy went out with the thoughts of the wedding. Julian's stress was sky high, as was Jenn's although it was the various family members who were keeping them sane.

On the day of the wedding many things were up in the air, including Bron's temper.

"Bronwen Jane," why anyone called Bron that was beyond Angy as she hurried through, hand resting on the small bump which was her abdomen and unborn child.

"What?" Bron stuck her head into the other room; glaring at the speaker before realising (much to her surprise and horror) it was Julie. 'Julie, remind me why I am here. I don't even _like _weddings!'

"You are here, because you are Jen's only daughter and the eldest of the journo's although in my opinion at this moment you are a spoilt brat.'

"I am not;" Bron pursed her lips in temper. 'I don't wannabe a bridesmaid,' she whined.

"When in doubt fuck it," Jane was singing as she came in. 'Yo Fatso,'

Julie gave Jane a look. 'Ta for making my daughter look worried.'

"I was addressing Bron, Angharad is perfect… Bron's just a little short fat mushroom," Jane continued, as Sadie marched behind her mother in long strides. 'HALT!'

Sadie stopped. 'Yes mum?'

"Go check on your aunty Jen," Jane smiled watching her young daughter run off before directing her gaze at Bron. Bron stood firm… until Julies gaze joined it. 'Dress on, now.'

Bron muttered a curse before picking it up. 'I'm not doing it cos of the look, I'm doing it because I love mum.'

"Sure," Julie rolled her eyes at Jane and smirked.

Angharad adjusted a few straps and pulled at her gloves. She pulled at a few strands of blonde hair out of her bun that she deemed too tight and brushed a bit of mascara that had found its way into her eyes. Once satisfied that she was comfortable, she dared to look in the mirror.

She had to admit; she didn't look all that bad. The dress helped immensely. It was white, decorated with gold cherry blossoms. A small pearl fastened at her throat held up the top, while the bottom simply hugged her hips.

She liked the Chinese design much better than any other western dress she'd seen. After all, she was a bridesmaid. She should be able to wear anything she wanted. Besides, the bottom of the dress fanned out a bit anyhow so it wasn't like the thing was skin-tight.

Bron was dressed in a knee length dress, much like her mother, and it was a light brown. She was holding a bunch of white roses, and had a nervous smile on her lips.

"Nervy?" Angharad asked, as they stepped outside only to be accosted by Tom and Danny. 'Hey you sod's.'

"Hey, come on, Jen's getting ready," Danny said, as he juggled Ioan under his arm. 'Come on.'

Angy smiled as he brushed his hand over her stomach, and she giggled. Tom had rescued Ioan and was propping him between his sister and himself. Ioan was laughing at Bron who was tickling his cheek with one of the rose petals. She smiled, as Cyn approached with her daughter Jude, while Sean bounced Paul in his arms. Cyn swapped her 'great-granddaughter' for her grandson. Bron laughed and lifted her high, earning her a gurgle.

Life was good.

**

"For Christ's Sake! Leave your fucking tie alone!"

Zak Starkey gave his old friends hand a good hard slap. Julian yelped in pain from adjusting his tie. Sir Paul and Ringo watched them with small smiles. The two sons of 'Beatlemania' were now grown men; one was already married with a daughter, the second getting married with a daughter and young son.

"What'd you think John would've said?" Ringo said in hushed tones to Paul.

Paul shook his head. 'I don't know, probably been happy for him but would've shot him down. He always did that.'

"Sirs?" The door opened to reveal Bron standing there with Ioan. Zak clicked his tongue in agitation at the sight of his Godson as well as Bron. Yet he frowned, there was something so familiar about the stance. She looked like Julian – but he couldn't place why and how. The familiar nervy smile. 'It's tradition in Wales for the man to be left alone for five minutes.'

Julian raised an eyebrow, before realising Bron was saving his neck for any speeches about marriages. He gave his Uncles and old friend a nod, and Bron a smile. 'Ta kid. And hello son!' his son obligingly burst out giggling. 'Bron remember…'

"Jude and Paul, they are lying comfortable in their little cribs," Bron shook her head. 'You'd swear I was an idiot.'

"Right then," Paul stood and brushed his nephews back. 'Best wishes son.'

"Remember don't faint," Ringo teased. 'Yoko'd have that to the tabloids.'

Julian watched them leave before sneakily pulling out his final cigarette and lighting it. He suckered in the nauseating fumes (God it proved he hadn't been smoking) and smiled. He was marrying Jenn. Love of his life, mother of his child and his precious stepdaughter. Julian closed his eyes

"_Seem to be doing well for yerself,"_

_Julian opened his eyes to find his father sitting on the windowsill. He was in his 1966 clothes… the good times Julian could barely recall. _

"_John?" _

"_Not daddy or dad anymore kid?" John laughed bitterly. 'Yeah, being a cunt tends to do that.' _

"_What do you want," Julian snapped. 'I don't need you. Why are you here?' _

"_I wanted to see you" John replied, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. 'You've got a good girl. There said something nice to you.' _

"_That's a first," Julian replied shortly. 'You've seen your grandson.' _

"_Ioan, thanks fer…"_

"_He's named for me and it's family tradition," Julian responded, straightening his tie. 'I don't want you to come anywhere near him.' _

_John laughed shortly. 'You're bitter. Can't say I blame you. What about that little bird then? Bronwen is it?' _

"_You stay away from her. From them all,"_

_John shrugged. 'Notice anything about her?' _

"_What?" _

"_Jen was never sure if she was yours or his… remember the last night you lay together before you remet,"_

Julian blinked furiously, the memories echoing through his mind like an express train. Everything seemed to fall into place. The last time before Bron had been born, when they'd lain together well into the night, almost coming back together, but failing at the last post, with Julian leaving in the early hours.

Jen marrying Peter, to his anxiousness, her pregnancy. Bron's birth, six weeks early. The way Bron's eyes flashed – the Lennon eyes. The way Jane half-encouraged their relationship, by dumping Bron on Jules unexpectedly. Her growing up in front of him.

_The way she would sit with him, and listen to music before her bitterly honest response, or when she was writing her ability to articulate her anger. The way she could flash a smile, and look like him and Jen in so many ways. _

_Julian blinked back tears as he realised why him and Bron had such a natural connection – and despite the fact she'd called another man dad, he smiled. He was her dad. _

"_Oh my God,"_

"_Yep, I've been keeping an eye on her the last few years," John scratched at his chin, although an obvious look of pride crossed his face. 'She's brilliant.' _

"_She's mine."_

'_You should tell her.' _

"_No,"_

"_Listen to me now son," _

"_No." Julian looked at him angrily. 'You stole my laughter. Yoko helped break me and Jen up… and in one respect tore me away from __**you're rightful heir. **__You've ruined my life in so many aspects. I had to learn to accept me.' He paused before smirking. 'I will not tell my daughter, who is already my child, and ruin her image of her mother.... even if it breaks my laughter. You made me into a stronger man. But I can assure you dad… I loved you even if you didn't love me. So if you love me you'd leave me alone…'_

"Jules?"

Julian's eyes snapped open and he looked around to see his mother in the church next to him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing love, you just looked a bit faint is all," Cyn looked up the church and smiled. 'Here she comes…'

When the marital march started to play, all other thoughts left Julian's head. His body was shaking with anticipation, what if's ran through his mind. He could see _his_ daughter talking to her husband, the instigator of the previous mess. On seeing the Lennon glare she winced and they stopped talking.

He turned expectantly and grinned proudly at his soon to be wife.

There was a hint of medieval England in the soft, full skirt with an overskirt of embroidered roses on satin, the long bodice of embroidered satin that came to a point below the waist and rose to just above the bust where it dissolved into sheer fabric with a jewel neckline. The satin sleeves burst out at the shoulder, then were quickly gathered in and extend snugly to a point over the hands.  
She looked beautiful.

"Hello love," he whispered in her ear. She grinned.

Bron watched the ceremony, grasping at Tom's hand. She thought back to the day they'd met and argued. The times they'd screamed at each other. And then the night she'd sat with him, and awoken the next morning in his arms.

Now here she stood. She quickly checked on the two sleeping babes next to his side – smiling in relief. Little Jude had been a perfect angel that morning, smiling obligingly at her grandmother, while Paul had been easily soothed during his one crying fit.

She glanced at Angharad and Danny, the happiest couple she knew. She grinned at them, crossing her eyes – earning her an annoyed look from Angy.

"Behave," Tom whispered in her ear. He nipped at her neck, and she shoved him. 'Well… what's the matter? You've been dead quiet, the last two days?'

"I thought you knew everything about me," she whispered back.

"Tell," he whispered.

"And do you John Charles Julian Lennon take thee Jennifer Bronwen John, To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part?"

"I do,"

"I'm 4 months pregnant,"

Both Julian and Bron spoke in whispers. Tom looked at Bron in surprise and he smiled as she joined his hand with hers, and placed it on their slumbering miracle child's covering.

For one of The Enemy… she couldn't be considered _all _bad.


	30. Chapter 30

_The final chapter... please dont be angry with the ending. Thank you all for reviewing! The Last chapter!_

* * *

_Epilogue_

What shall we do with the dreamers  
Who see a world we can never know  
Who have found a place of wonder  
Where only children dare to go  
(C) Santana: Wings of Grace

_**There is a lot to be said for the sixth album for most British bands. It either shows a tangible effort on their part, to attempt to look like the Beatles… sometimes they can be credited as doing a good job as a British band. Yet they also show a determination not to get out of the limelight with grace.**_

_A_ngy looked over the old review with the all the fondness that she could muster. After all this was the article that had introduced her to her precious husband for the last twenty years. She shook her head and put it away.

It was difficult to believe that it had been twenty-three years since the notorious McFly-gate article which had nearly cost the girls careers; as well as the fact that with Danny she was now the proud parent of four wonderful children.

"You're looking nostalgic?" Angharad turned to see Bron standing in the doorway. Behind her walked Bron's young protégé and daughter, Jude Fletcher, shouting orders about the office and laughing. 'Nearly ready to hand it over.'

Angharad snorted through her nose. The phrase was something spoken by Jann Wenner in their youth about Rolling Stone; although it had taken his death to separate himself from the precious magazine. Bron had taken over both magazines, although had originated a new sister to Rolling Stone called 'Brilliance' in her late twenties, after Jann's demise. Originally a brilliant idea, Angharad could now see Bron's age creeping up on her.

Angharad noted a resigned look in Bron's eyes; but before she could question it the phone rang.

"Hello?" Bron scooped it up. 'Oh hello little brother?' Jude came through on hearing her Uncle's name. 'Yeah. How's everyone? Good, good. Yeah. Look Tom's coming down now with some of the brats; and Jude will be on the train. I'll probably be in the early hours; tell Amy I'll meet her outside the University and I'll pick her up from there.' Bron yawned as she put the phone down. 'Hell I'm tired. Jude, honey, you'd better get the train?'

"Are you sure mum?" Jude looked at her mother, concerned. 'You don't look well…'

"Look I'll be fine; I'll probably be in Brecon and be bright and happy. You know me love. Now go on." Bron planted a kiss to the side of her daughters head; although Jude's anxious look didn't leave her face. 'Go on!'

Once reassured that she was out of sight, Bron sank into the nearest seat and put her head in her hands. Angharad looked at her old friend with concern; she knew Bron didn't like driving in the dark, but it was something she needed to do tonight… but perhaps tomorrow would be better.

"Why don't you sleep over my house?"

"Because I don't want to delay the inevitable." Bron said bitterly.

"Look one night; that's it."

For some unknown reason that evening; Bron took up Angharad's offer – something which was very rare for Bron to do. She didn't take the guest bedroom like usual, preferring to sleep on the sofa. She dreamed fitfully; Angharad could hear her pained cries upstairs.

Shortly before midnight however, Angharad's dreams were interrupted by the phone ringing downstairs. Carefully she rolled out of bed, not waking either Danny or her youngest daughter Kate who had had a nightmare earlier.

When she finally got downstairs however, she found Bron talking on the phone uneasily. Her pale skin stood out in the darkness, and when she put the phone down – she did so with shaking hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Amy found another lift…"

"Well that's…"

"She was killed in a car accident tonight. She was killed instantly. The driver of the car had mild concussion and a broken arm." Bron sat down after this short bitter monologue. 'I should've been with her. Do you mind coming down to Wales for the funeral?'

"Of course not." Angy chewed on her lip. 'Wouldn't you rather see your family and be with them?'

"You know me; I'm fucking useless." Bron replied, putting her cigarette in her mouth and lighting it casually. 'I'll go to the funeral when it comes.'

The funeral was for Friday, although Angharad found herself being looked at strange by various people in Curtis Lee. She supposed it was because of the way, Bron followed her around. It showed Bron's weaknesses, and she found that even Danny regarded her strangely. Bron didn't speak as much although Angharad noted that when she did it seemed she was a million miles away.

On Friday morning, in the early hours of the day, Bron and Angy drove down to Margarm Crematorium. The day seemed awfully quick to Angharad; but she slowly realised that time had very little meaning.

Ioan was standing outside the Crem; with a pale girl on his arm. The girl had a sling on her arm. _Survivor of the crash; _Angharad thought to herself.

"Poor bugger;" she said to Bron, who casually lit a cigarette. The grief of her 22 year old brother didn't seem to bother Bron in the least; or rather she hid behind her emotions. 'He…'

"_Will_ get over it;" Bron puffed out her cheeks in thought. 'They all will.'

Tom was walking with Jenn; with 5 of Bron and his seven children. The eldest; the twins; were chatting to Julian sadly. All were the pride and joy of Bron and Tom's. The twins could've easily been their children by blood the way they were treated. The old doctor's who'd sworn Bron would never conceive or give birth were wrong… and here were all the products of their wrongs. The only two who seemed absent were 7 year old George and the 2 year old Lewisa. Jane was standing holding Justin's hand, tears streaking down the sharp features.

"We should be getting in," Bron stubbed out the cigarette on the edge of her boot. Angy nodded. 'I'll sit next to you.'

"Bron..."

"I hope the music is fucking good." Bron walked off before Angy could tell her she should be with her family.

The music in the service was good. Angharad had to admit that as she sat in the front row, looking at the coffin blatantly.

The first song was _Day is done _a lonely requiem which the victim of the car crash had fiercely loved toward the end of her life. Then came an all-too-familiar ending; and when the Vicar spoke again Angharad prayed she wouldn't hear much more. The service was quick.

Sinead, the first Irish Catholic female Prime Minister, had made her speech in Gaelic, before doing it in English for the benefit of everyone.

"God works in mysterious ways. Bronwen, Angharad, Amy, and I were sitting at Backo's Pub just six months ago. We were having a few beers, which we did every Saturday afternoon together, talking about sports, politics and our lives. Then the subject of death came up. As usual; we had our own opinions of what life meant.

"Bron's was… it's all dick." Stiff laughter. "Mine, Angharad's and Amy's was more hopeful. But as I said… I probably won't make it much longer." Gentle laughter, yet tinged with sadness. 'I've lived too much, too hard. Too many cigarettes and too many beers. My poor body is just going to shut down. We all smiled and started to chuckle a bit, not really believing what I'd said. Six months later, here we are, minus one."

Grief swam in Angharad's head; but she noted Bron was tapping insistently on her heel as if waiting for a moment. 'We were friends for too long… enjoying cigarettes and fumbling with wine for too short a time. We walked our ways, but always returned. I was the last one she'd turn to when she was angry. She was my first…. she asked me to play this song when it came to the end."

Then came the final song… Angharad had heard Bron play it all too often, 'In My Life' by The Beatles. Angy felt her own eyes well up, although Bron conducted lazily.

John Lennon's eulogy to things changing in Liverpool and the places from his youth vanishing, weak sunlight lit the room as if on cue:

**  
****There are places I'll remember  
All my life, though some have changed  
Some forever, not for better  
Some have gone and some remain  
All these places had their moments  
With lovers and friends, I still can recall  
Some are dead and some are living  
In my life, I've loved them all**

Bron suddenly turned to her, and placed her hand on her cheek, smiling through tears in her familiar big brown eyes. 'You can let me go you know… you don't have to worry, they're waiting for me…'

That was when it really hit Angharad... as she recalled her friend with the toothy grin and the big eyes. When she was a teenager, walking down a street with her scruffy notes in her back pack. And she wasn't sure if she could hear her voice any more but it was blending together watching the teenager grow into woman. From journalist to mother, although the journalistic instincts never leaving her.

And it was bleeding together… and finally she was crying. Shoulders heaving with the emotion. The tears of someone who'd lost a good friend and of losing the artistic madness. The emotion of losing someone much too young.

Of Bron not accepting the offer to sleep the night in her house. Of the laughing goodbye down the street, the trilby on her head. Of her smirk as she drove off… the first time Angy had seen her look so determined.

The phone call at the dead of night. Of instead of Bron driving it had been Amy; who had offered to drive instead of the tired Bronwen John-Fletcher. Julian describing how Amy had misjudged her speed and had crashed the car – killing Bron instantly.

The week of grief; of not accepting it. Of seeing Bron's ghost everywhere. Pure denial.

Angharad slammed her eyes shut, praying it was all a bad dream but knowing it wasn't. Amy was sitting next to Ioan sobbing out her woes of living.

The final words of the song were 'In my life, I'll love you more' and Angharad knew she wouldn't be watching the final years of her life with an old friend.

Those who died much too young are freeze-framed at exactly the point which she wanted to remember her. In her freeze-frame, she was sitting on a low sofa in her office. Her leg crossed over the other as she tapped a beat on her shoe. Her eyes were alert and Angharad smiled as she watched her laugh.

"Angharad?" Angy turned one last time to see Bron gazing down at her. She wasn't 40 odd anymore… she was eighteen with her eyes gleaming. Behind her stood John… Julian's John and Jane's Maggie. Maggie waggled her fingers, as Bron gently kissed Angharad's cheek. 'I'll be waiting snapper.'

And with those words… she walked into the sunshine before catching John's hand and vanishing. Angharad shook her head, before spotting Tom smiling gently.

"You saw her too?" she asked quietly as they exited.

"Bron knew her end was near…" he shook his head before laughing. 'I'm glad Julian told her he was her dad, when she gave birth to Edward and realised he had his face... she accepted it better as well...'

Angy shrugged before smirking, noting Bron watching from the doorway, and then when she turned once more the world flashed and Bron was gone.


End file.
